


Let no (Wo)Man put asunder…

by Drusilla_951



Series: Rowena and Benedicta Trilogy [2]
Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: Adultery, Betrayal, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, M/M, Marriage, POV Female Character, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Political Alliances, Post-Canon, Single combat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-22 02:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1572236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drusilla_951/pseuds/Drusilla_951
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <i>Knucklebones</i>.<br/>Princess Benedicta, Arthur's wife, visits her Cornish cousins, Cador and Lancelin. Lancelin likes Benedicta a little too much, or so it appears to Arthur...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A my thanks to Trepkos for her fantastic beta reading. All remaining errors are mine.**  
>  Disclaimers:  I don’t own the _Arthur of the Britons_ characters and this story was written just for fun. However, some of the ideas are mine…  
>  The author doesn’t automatically share all the opinions expressed in the story; they are the characters’.
> 
> Timeline:  Post-‘ _The Girl From Rome_ ’. This story is the sequel to _Knucklebones_ ; it is set between the two parts of its [Epilogue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1552658/chapters/3319826).
> 
> The story is very loosely based upon the Chrétien de Troyes’ 12th century novel, _Lancelot ou le Chevalier de la charrette_ but I resolutely twisted it out of recognition.

_You could not step twice into the same river._

Heraclitus

**Benedicta’s Tale**

His outstretched arm holding me secure against his side, Arthur slept. I listened to his steady breathing and tried to settle in the safe harbour created by his presence. It wasn’t easy. At night when the world went still, I had more time to contemplate what my future would hold. One thing I was sure of: Arthur’s love for me could not be the Alpha and Omega of my life. I had to be of some use.

I was lucky. Rowena eased my return back to the village with all her warmth and kindness. We understood each other and our difficulties very well; we were both strangers in a strange land and this made us sisters-in-arms. But Rowena’s lot was different from mine. Heiress to a powerful ruler, and a princess in her own right, she had lived in a nearby kingdom all her life. I may be descended from a companion to Romulus and Remus – or so my father was quick to boast – and a ‘Princess of the old blood’, but that made me a scion from the hated conquerors. The Roman armies didn’t leave sweet remembrance from their passing, only some crumbling stones and much hate resulting from the indignities the Celts had suffered. Every day I was reminded of it in the squalor of Arthur’s village.

So I wondered: shouldn't I try to meet my mother's family, and remind Arthur’s people of my Celtic roots? It was even more urgent, and it could also prove useful, now that my husband was to conclude a pact with Cador of the West. My association with Cornwall wasn't widely acknowledged yet. If my cousin was ready to join the Celtic alliance, this part of the territory would be secured at long last. I just hoped that he wouldn’t misconstrue our hasty marriage… We were married in a hurry; as if Arthur dreaded another fateful obstruction. He could not be content till I knelt alongside him before the Abbot.

********

**Kai’s Tale**

As long as Arthur simply took the woman to his bed, no one complained. On the contrary. I heard frequent jokes about his avenging our honour with his tarse. Men found it a superb jest, and some envied him the woman who shared his bed: Benedicta is indeed lovely. Furthermore, it put some persistent rumours to rest. [NOTE 1] Arthur was better known for his prowess on a hunt than for his readiness to spear repeatedly female quarry in his bed. Each muffled sound echoing from the longhut brought him nearer to the common clay, and men and women alike were somehow grateful for it. Men, because Arthur’s feats made them prouder of their leader; several women, because the fools believed they could definitively replace his ‘Roman whore’ when Arthur was done with her.

When it was publicly known that Arthur was to wed Benedicta, many expressed reluctance. I had to keep my eyes open and listened carefully to the grumblings of the villagers. After all, they’d had to put up with a 'Saxon' lieutenant, who, in his turn married a Jute princess. Would they also absolve Arthur for marrying a Roman woman who could contribute nothing in riches or useful deals to the Celtic alliance?

But Arthur's new consort was very shrewd – as some noticed with reluctant approval – and slowly eased her way into their everyday life. 

Her friendship with Rowena strengthened with each passing day. While it pleased me to see my wife giggling and sharing confidence and secrets with the women, at first, I didn't like her closeness to Benedicta. More than once, when I had happened to intrude on them, they suddenly shut up and blushed like children caught doing wrong. Once, I simply asked Rowena about it; she laughed very self-consciously and answered that it was ‘women’s talk’ and very boring to a husband’s ears. Then she proceeded to show me how we could better employ our time. I didn’t pursue the inquiry, but that didn't mean I had forgotten about it. 

As days went by, many realised that some of Benedicta’s most aggravating traits sprang from her insecurity, and they learned to tolerate her presence. So did I.

I _had_ to.

Arthur was never so relaxed and cheerful, and I was glad of it, whatever the cause.

********

**Benedicta’s Tale**

I was rash and prickly.

I don't usually like to flagellate myself and say it's all my fault, but, this time, it was. Sometimes the best intentions in the world completely miss the target.

Perhaps the very real fear of being held accountable for the failure of Arthur and Cador’s discussions was the cause of it all; I really don't know. But I do know that if I could erase an evening from my life, it would be that one. I don't relish the memory of our first full-fledged fight, nor its consequences.

I put off my request to leave Arthur’s lands to visit Cador’s till late at night. Actually, I waited for the moment my husband settled onto my breast, ready to slip into well-deserved rest. While I asked, I held the delicious weight of his head cushioned on my flesh, his hair tickling my nipples. One of his hands was holding my waist, in that dear, possessive habit of his. I hoped that approaching sleep would dull his reaction. I was wrong.

I ventured, “Dearest, would it be such a bother if I went away for a while to visit my cousins? As it is, I already have waited too long to do so.”

I felt him start before he propped himself above me, looking inquiringly into my eyes.

“What is the meaning of this sudden craving, Benedicta? Are you already bored with your life here?”

I denied any such feeling.

“So why the hurry to go traipsing across the land?”

Baffled by his sharp inquisitiveness, I stammered something about needing to meet my family. Messengers had come and gone between the two territories, in order to prepare the drawing-up of the pact, I reminded Arthur; and I feared that the Cornish chieftain had already learned of my whereabouts without the courtesy of my bringing the news to him. Besides, it would strengthen the Celtic alliance if it were known that I was related to Cador, not just a despised Roman patrician.

My garbled sentence was one of the most feeble rhetoric discourses I had ever uttered. Cleanthes, my old master, would have covered his head with ashes in embarrassment if he had ever heard it, as it was indeed a poor testimony of his teaching.

I idiotically insisted, “Can’t you see? Our surreptitious marriage may prejudice Cador against you. This would be a bad beginning for your forthcoming pact… My going will mend that.”

Arthur wasn’t convinced by this masterly utterance, either. He peremptorily stated, “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

 _That_ was the moment when things got out of control.

“Oh.” I sharply drew a breath. “Am I a prisoner in your longhouse, then?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Arthur sat up, shaking his tangled mane away, and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Struck by the truth in my husband's statement and embarrassed by my immature outburst, I could not return his glare. I began to twist the bed covering between my hands, not daring to look at him.

I inwardly cursed my temper, and tried again. “Really, I can’t delay any longer. If I’m to be treated as his kin, I _cannot_ inflict this discourtesy to Cador.”

“Who’s to say you’ve been discourteous? I’ll deal with it.”

Now, my indignation was rising faster. “Must you interfere?''

“Interfere? Is that what you call it? Do as you are bid, for once!” Arthur grabbed hold of my shoulders, and pulled me to him so he could better see my face. What he read in it didn’t please him in the least. I had had time to compose it into a mask, but I suppose that my uneasiness and pique were showing beneath the cracks.

Pride coming to my rescue, I protested, “Must you men solve everything with violence? Tell me. Am I a prisoner, here? Always to defer to your every wish before I make any move?”

Arthur let go of me as if my touch burned him. “Is that how you see it – us?” 

I stayed silent.

“Did my – demands displease you this much?” He smiled reminiscently. “I did not find it so.”

Images of our coupling sprang into my mind. No, I went to him with eagerness, though more diffidently than before. Every day I counted my blessings, and yet I questioned how I came to be so fortunate; feeling happiness wasn’t an ingrained habit with me. It was somewhat frightening.

I chewed my lower lip, wishing I could swallow back my foolish retort. “No, they don’t.” To prove it, I put my arms around Arthur's neck, but I let them drop away when he displayed no interest. Frowning, I turned slightly away. An unendurable silence stretched. I barely dared to breathe. After a while, Arthur slipped a finger under my chin and raised my face up. As he did so, I saw that he was still furious but was determinately trying to master it.

Through gritted teeth, Arthur demanded, “Will you now admit you spoke in haste, and ask my forgiveness?”

“What for? For having some sense of propriety? Really, Arthur, there is nothing outrageous in my demand!”

“You don’t see it, don’t you?” Disbelief made room for frozen fury. “Can’t you trust that I know best, and act accordingly?”

I shook my head. “Can’t you act as if I were an intelligent being and not a child?”

“Why should I? You don’t act like one!”

When we had each angrily whispered our reasons till we were both hoarse – for we wouldn’t lower ourselves by yelling at each other – Arthur turned his back on me, and went to sleep. I was left to contemplate the thought that consideration for my family was a very, very icy bedfellow.

I kept telling myself that I had to make allowances for our very different upbringings: his sometimes offhand way of treating me never ceased to astonish me. I couldn't reconcile it with the freedom he gave me, such as I had never previously enjoyed. Yet, at the same time, I felt that beneath his guarded disposition, jealous feelings ran deep. Or was it another instance of that fierce protective streak in him that drove him on so relentlessly? Whatever the cause, his possessiveness was odious; could he not trust me? 

On that bitter – and too hasty – judgement, I fell asleep.

********

Two days after our fight, we made up, the way proud and obstinate people who are also very much in love usually do. Arthur's lovemaking was passionate. My nails left scratches that paralleled the faint striated mysterious scars showing on his back.

Afterwards, most of the times, Arthur stopped to behave with me as if I was someone he still didn’t know very well. Nevertheless, there was a new constraint between us.  
Then Lancelin arrived.

In the end, I got my way, but not by my own efforts, and it was an empty victory; it didn't bring me the satisfaction I had expected.

********

**Arthur's Tale**

This was the second time Benedicta had ridden away; this time, she was escorted to Cornwall by Cador’s son and his party. Llud went with her; I had made sure of that.

As before, she barely looked at me as she rode away; as before, I stood there, seemingly carved in stone. Mulish pride on both sides had prevented us from smothering the embers of distrust.

Anyway, Lancelin did enough simpering and smirking for three people; he smiled too widely and too often when there was no cause, but he and Benedicta seemed to get on like a house on fire.

To be truthful, the man was a feast for female eyes. As dark as Benedicta was fair, he also had the same cornflower-blue eyes, and an easy countenance. They were almost like two sides of the same coin, their family likeness unmistakable. But Lancelin carried himself like a self-assured man – as the Roman princess washed up on the Celtic shores once had – while Benedicta tended now to move more cautiously, as if she wasn’t yet sure of her place. I had not noticed it before she left, but it suddenly struck me when she mounted her horse, and rode away.

As I was still smarting from my first serious quarrel with my wife, I had seen with annoyance that Lancelin could not let her alone: underfoot with every step I took, speaking for her ears only, and making her laugh. My grimness was a startling contrast with his beaming look, as I was all too well aware. The more he sparkled, the more I felt swathed in shadows. I could not fathom the expression in Lancelin’s eyes, but the intensity of his gaze when he considered his cousin left me in no doubt.

As Cador’s representative and heir, Lancelin had come to my camp to look over the clauses in the treaty, in his father’s stead. He told me he had anticipated some boring talk of armed assistance and hosts, former treaties and clauses, and Benedicta’s presence was an added bonus. He was seemingly struck dumb by the sight of her when he first understood who she was, and never ceased to show appreciation of their kinship. Cador’s prior request for assistance in tracing his long-lost cousin swiftly gave way to an invitation for her to visit their village. For the sake of the alliance, I had to give way; unaccountably, I resented Lancelin twice at much for his unwilling forcing of my hand.

When the Cornish party exited our gates, it was almost deliverance, even if I feared that my boorishness would not entice Benedicta to return. Though I had tried to leave her some breathing space in which to find her footing, I had still managed to drive her away. For this, I had only myself to blame. Had leadership merely taught me to displease a woman worthy of being pleased? [NOTE 2]

As soon as I went back into the longhut, Rowena took me to task. She looked up incredulously from the meal she was laying out. “Well. Arthur, I own you disappoint me.”

I braced myself.

“Did you really let the woman you love go away without a word, for such shallow reasons as she told me? I can’t believe it.”

“You should: Benedicta is gone. It’s what she wanted. And Lancelin made it a condition of the treaty. Llud goes with them. This is all I have to say.”

“Don’t you regret letting her leave?”

I managed to keep my voice even. “Not if she wants to go. She’s not shackled to me.”

Rowena’s voice was shrill and getting angrier by the minute. “Holy Mother! I can’t believe you’re _that_ stupid! _Men!_ ” She slammed a plate on the table. “And you – who believe you know people’s minds! The day you understand women, fishes will be able to fly!” She paused. “If you think Benedicta left because she is not happy here –”

I coldly interrupted her impassioned speech, “Obviously, she is happier leaving! Rowena, between you and me there is friendship and affection, but I desire – no, I _demand_ a truce from this impudent woman’s talk. Do not speak of what you don’t know.”

Rowena drew herself up. With her increased girth, she looked like a puffing pigeon, slightly ridiculous but utterly charming. I involuntarily chortled.

“My dear sister, do stop playing peacemaker, will you? You should concern yourself with motherhood, and not try to side with my wife, to set right any imaginary wrong done to her.”

She flung back, “I do concern myself with my family. I didn’t think you were that much of a coward, that’s all!”

This barb wasn’t worth any answer, so I strode into my bedchamber, slamming the door, feeling I had made good my escape. Not so. Kai was seated on my bed, waiting for me. Had husband and wife planned this concerted attack? I briefly entertained the thought, before being quickly disabused of the notion.

“Is Benedicta gone?” Kai asked.

''You would have known, if you had deigned to see her off!” I stripped off my cloak and took my sword from its scabbard. Yes, it needed some polishing. I busied myself with the task, pointedly ignoring Kai. Perhaps he would take the hint.

He didn’t. Kai has always been very skilled at ignoring what he doesn’t want to see.

I shot him the same look that often disconcerted my foes, but it fell like a wooden sword upon a shield, without leaving a mark. “Kai, what it is you want? I’m busy.”

Indeed I was. I spat on the blade and brushed the spot with my thumb. No, there was no defect here, only a speck of dirt. I turned my back on Kai and came closer to the fire, turning the weapon in my hand so the blade would better catch the light.

Kai was following all my moves with a wooden face. His patience wasn't a good omen. When did he ever hesitate to speak his mind?

''So,” Kai finally said. “You must have managed it very badly... I expected as much.”

I started, but still, I would not look at him. If I did, I would probably punch him in the gut, brother or no brother. What right had Kai to come here and taunt me? He, who had everything his heart desired! A devoted and beloved wife who kept him warm at night; a child in the making, perhaps a son; when I could not even make my own wife trust me without the explanation I had so inflexibly refused to give her... Such cruelty wasn’t like him. Why did he keep rubbing salt in my wound?

When my sword was free of any stain, I placed it on the table and walked to the bed, taking off my belt as I did so. Kai’s hazel eyes were fixed on my every movement. The fire emphasized the little dots of gold flickering in his pupils; it gave him the intent look of a hungry wolf. When you’re being stalked by one, even if it is presently unmoving, you know it can spring at your throat at any time. Sometimes the best defence is attack.

I faced him squarely, and in a quiet tone, I asked him: “Is it really any concern of yours?”

Our eyes locked, and once again, I was aware of the strong tie between us: well-tempered friendship and trust, nurtured with shared childhood scrapes and fights, and not even spoiled by that strange aberration of mine some summers past. It had led to nothing, fortunately; acute solitude and odd fancy can easily lead a man astray. I would have lost the best part of my life, gaining nothing.

Kai's voice was even. “It is.” He paused. “And I predicted that last row. I would even have wagered money on it.”

I half-smiled at this feeble joke then heaved a sigh. “You said you expected it...” I shook my head. “I wonder why.” I sank dejectedly onto the bed, and after a while, I let go of my inner confusion, “Kai, were you right after all? Now, I wonder if Benedicta truly loves me. Perhaps she only submitted to the law of the victor... Would she have gone away so gladly, otherwise?”

Kai shook his head disbelievingly, “Arthur, for someone so clear-sighted, in some matters you can be singularly blind.” He seemed to weigh how to go on for a moment, and then quietly said, “Do you think me a fool?”

“No.” _Even if the thought has sometimes crossed my mind._

“Then, believe me when I assure you that all will come all right between you, if you follow my lead – for once.”

I had to smile at that. “Am I that hard-headed?”

“Do you want an honest answer?”

 _One hit for Kai._ I shook my head vigorously, yet I grimly added, “Benedicta was quite insistent about leaving.”

“What happened?”

“She wove some tale about Cador waiting for her visit, and wanted to know whether I held her prisoner here. She was quite determined.”

“So you let her go, just like that?”

“How could I not? I could not jeopardise the forthcoming treaty for my ill-humour. We need to bind that territory into our line of defence.”

“Arthur... Can’t you see that she wanted you to restrain her, in the end?” Kai shook his head. “And what did you do next? Did you tell Benedicta not to be a fool?”

“Errrrr – yes.” Thinking back on it, our second and last argument had not been a model of rational debate. “I told her she wasn’t a prison—” 

Kai frowned. “Sometimes, I wonder if there’s any hope for you. You admitted that she was free to do as she willed?”

“Admitted? No. I just told her the truth.”

“The truth? To a woman?” He snorted. “Whatever next?” Kai leaned back and put his hand on my shoulder. “Did you insist Benedicta should listen to you?”

“Not precisely.” I got up and wandered restlessly across the room. Benedicta _had_ to trust me, as was proper. Now I wasn’t so sure I had been right to stick to that belief.

“I'd wager my best knife that she was expecting you to master her and make her see reason. Now, she's probably feeling pretty miserable, and so are you. You both deserve it, by the way!”

“But –”

“Of course, the woman is plain stupid, but you should know better!”

“I don’t understand.” I finally admitted.

“No, you don’t, don’t you?” Kai laughed. “Do I have to spell it all to you? Because Benedicta _said_ something doesn’t mean that she really _meant_ it. Women can think different things all at once, all of them contradictory, and in spite of this, they mean them all.”

“While a man can merely mean one thing and say another?” I replied with heavy irony. “Thank you very much for the advice; it will be of much use to me when I discuss the next treaty!”

“Arthur, shut up, for once, and listen to me!”

I was so taken aback by his outburst that I obeyed.

Kai went on, “Women don’t always reason. That’s usually a man’s part. If Benedicta thought like you do, would you hold her so dear? You wouldn’t, because you would not be able to feel your superiority over her.”

I feebly protested, “Superiority? I don’t feel superior.”

All of a sudden, Kai looked very smug. “Oh, yes, you do. I feel the same for Rowena, even if I like her pluck. It's the way of things.”

I stopped pacing and sat down next to Kai. I looked at him; he was trying unsuccessfully to hide his humour, which was tinged with a little pity.

Kai gave me one of his piercing stares. “Can you truthfully tell me that you believe that Benedicta is able to take care of herself, and needs no protector?” 

“No, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well. If you didn’t know that you have to guard her, even from her whims, you wouldn’t be in love with her.”

“Perhaps. As you seem to have all the answers, what should I do?”

Kai burst out laughing. “When Llud comes back with Benedicta – for if I know Llud, he won’t suffer much of this foolishness for long – shake your wife till she sees reason, then make love to her, and if she protests too loudly, go on with it until she surrenders. You have given her too much leeway. Women like a little roughness; at least Benedicta does.” His smile widened. “Hell's Teeth! Give her something real to worry about. A child, for instance.”

“Is that what you did with Rowena?”

Kai impishly replied, “Perhaps I did.”

“It wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” I owned. “But – do you really believe that she’ll come back with Llud?”

“She will miss you. I’m sure she already does.”

As he got up, Kai gruffly added, “And if the damn woman cannot see what's in front of her, it's _her_ loss! Not yours.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

** NOTES **

**NOTE 1:** Arthur told Llud in ‘ _The Marriage Fest_ ’ that he wouldn’t be “married under pressure” but there is bound to be talk about his unmarried state. As a leader he has to marry, and even if he is still young, his is a dangerous life. He told Kai he had no “acknowledged son” and heir in _Knuckkebones_.

 **NOTE 2:** “ _A woman worthy…_ ” Shamelessly borrowed from Jane Austen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Benedicta’s Tale**

While we rode to Cornwall, Lancelin discoursed at length about our family – widowed, Cador had not married again, though his bed was rarely empty – and of the enthusiastic welcome the Cornish people would reserve me, for a beautiful princess would be a delight to them. He probed about my tastes and talents, saying that I would find a kindred scholarly spirit in Abbot Denzel when he visited, and that the women would welcome me with open arms. 

This puzzled me, as I had understood that I would visit for a fortnight, before accompanying Cador to King Mark's camp, where he would pledge allegiance to Arthur on neutral ground, but Lancelin seemed to be implying that my stay could be of some duration. It made me somewhat uneasy. 

Llud, riding to my right, was non-committal. He was, as ever, quite diplomatic, saying that Arthur expected me at the appointed time, for I had to shoulder my share of the tasks Spring brought in its wake. Inwardly, I heaved a great relieved sigh: Arthur wanted me back. I had begun to fear that he would be glad to be rid of such an unreasonable and flighty consort.

********

When we arrived at our destination, Llud and I were led into a room whose floor was covered with fragrant dried grass, and hung with all manner of tapestries, showing animals and flowery designs. The drawings on the borders were intriguing to the eyes: twisting and turning on the wool without end or beginning.

A huge carved table stood in the middle of the room, laden with food and wine. The man seated in a great chair beside the table, leaning back at his ease, was Cador. I knew it at once without being told. He had his son’s eyes and dark hair, but unlike Lancelin, who was slightly built, he was a giant of a bearded man. One of his hands was tucked in the belt of his long gown – for, curiously, this man who was looking every inch the warrior, was dressed like courtiers or elders.

Lancelin came to him, and bowed with a flourish which, to my eyes, was not devoid of a slight mockery.

“My Lord, here is my cousin Benedicta, who comes from across the sea to visit with you. And this is Llud, Arthur's right-hand man.”

Llud acknowledged the chieftain with a bow of his head. I took a step forward, and made a curtesy. Cador’s pale blue eyes travelled over me. He rose, knocking over his chair with a crash, in his haste, and came towards me, both hands extended.

“And very welcome you are, Dearest Cousin! I would have known you in a crowd. You are the spitting image of your mother at twenty–?” 

“I’m twenty-four,” I said quietly. **[NOTE 3]**

He smiled. “Twenty-four it is, then. Lancelin here, is your elder by a few months. He has just turned twenty-five.”

Cador bade me sit before him. I drew up a stool and sat on it, demurely smoothing my skirts. Llud was directed to a carved chair. A serving woman came out from behind a curtain, and poured us glasses of wine – in vessels of the most wondrous opalescent green glass. How could such fragile vessels reach these shores unbroken? The blend of rustic and elaborate furniture I saw in the hut astounded me. Cador certainly seemed far richer than Arthur. **[NOTE 4]**

“Are you unmarried?” 

I shook my head. “No, My Lord. I married Arthur three weeks ago.” 

This obviously pleased Cador less than my previous answer, but he pushed the matter away, with a rapid gesture of one hand.

Llud butted in, “Arthur would not wait, as they were both of the same mind.”

I added, “Time was of the essence. My father –”

Cador nodded. “Yes, I understand why you would be eager to slip away from his grasp.”

When Cador had extended his protection to me, he still believed me heiress of some rich lands in Gaul. I was worldly enough to know that a poor relative is of baser merit than a rich one.

Lancelin laughed. “My dear father, you’ll frighten Benedicta away, with all your questions.”

I turned to Lancelin. “No, it’s alright.” Then I addressed Cador. “My father, you already know everything about. My riches, if I ever owned any, **[NOTE 5]** are lost to me forever. I owe all to Arthur’s generosity.”

Cador waved that aside. “We shall welcome you with happiness. You restore to us what was once lost. Tomorrow, you’ll give us back what was meant to be.”

Llud and I exchanged perplexed frowns.

Cador clapped his hands.

The woman who had poured our wine hurried to my side and showed us the way out. As I departed, I looked back over my shoulder to see Lancelin, leaning carelessly against the table, in startling contrast to his previous deference to his father.

He winked at me. 

His good humour was heartening. 

I was still bewildered by Cador’s words, and curt dismissal, but Llud and I had no time to discuss that riddle. Llud was led to a nearby hut, and I was shown to mine by the serving woman.

The bedroom had a huge bed, nestled in an alcove, and overspread with cushions and fine linen. Two chests of carved wood stood near the bed. Woollen drapes hung along the walls blocking the worst of the drafts. While it was a far cry from the accommodations I had enjoyed in Gaul or in Rome, it was far cheerier and cosier than Arthur’s longhut.

When I opened one of the chests, I saw that it was full of clothes. The woman who had showed me the way said timidly, “I hope some of the clothes will fit. I will make all alterations you deem right.”

I thanked her, but added that I had brought enough clothing to satisfy my needs during my stay, and asked her name. She was called Anna; Cador had placed her in my service. The woman pointed to a pallet in a corner of the room, “I sleep here, my lady. Do not hesitate to wake me, if you need anything.”

********

As the days went by, I gradually found my place. Not much was required of me, but to be thoroughly feminine: pretty and silent, easy and compliant. **[NOTE 6]** I smiled very often, spoke less, and thought furiously.

Cador was an easy matter; despite his impressive physique, my mother’s cousin seemed a quite uncomplicated man; rich, with pasture lands full of cattle and forests richer with game, he had the reputation of a brave warrior.

His son was another matter. He showed an aptitude for quick sword-play and ostentatious horsemanship, but his flourish didn’t impress me as much as Arthur’s had. One had all the appearance of mastery, the other had the reality of it. Llud, seemed to share my opinion. But I felt that, deep down, Lancelin cared little for these feats; to speak of love and weave songs for the women struck much more his fancy. With them, he was a favourite, for his comely looks, courtesy and sweet words. Cador jested about it, but nevertheless was proud of his warrior skills.

One day, when we were sitting together, alone in the longhut, Lancelin and I, he began to discourse about love. I lent half an ear to his speech, focusing on my task: I was hemming a new gown – a gift of Cador’s I could not refuse – of a nice blue dye, but much too long for me; I kept tripping on it. The task was as wearisome as my stumbling over the cloth had been.

“Have you ever felt this stirring?” my cousin asked me. “Do you not feel your pulse quicken when one appears?”

“Not for the present, anyhow!” Indeed, Arthur took my breath away every time I looked at him, but his remoteness at our parting was so marked that I now was uncertain of my welcome when I returned. _Better not dwell on that!_ I applied myself with renewed energy to my sewing and flippantly added, “I’m not sure I know what love is. It may be a vile fancy of youth and mere illusion for the elders.” **[NOTE 7]**

Lancelin laughed. “You are turned philosopher, Cousin! These are pretty words, but they cannot express your heart.”

I told him curtly, “My mind will be of better use to me.” It would, especially when I used all its strength to try to smother my qualms. Despite our cold parting, my longing for Arthur still burned in my breast.

My cousin put his hand on my knee for a second, before letting it flit away. “Benedicta, what lies in your breast instead of a heart? Is it a polished stone or a block of ice? Is no one worth anything to you in this land?”

“Certainly! What can you be but my friends, Cador and you?” I added impishly, “And, of course, there is my husband.” I kept my voice even, for fear of betraying my worry.

Lancelin shook his head. “No, that is not what I ask from you. We give you love and all you return are intricate words of quiet acceptance and courtesy.” 

I drew a breath, but he continued with increasing agitation. “Am I nothing? Is my father nothing? Do you have a single spark of affection for me, Benedicta?” He slid to the ground on one bended knee, picked up the hem of my dress and kissed it. 

To take the fabric from his hand would be considered an insult, so I had to play for time.

“Lancelin, how can I tell you of feelings I barely understand myself?” I smiled as truly as I could, when all I really wanted was to flee. “Everything is so new. My head is still in Rome; my heart, still frozen by the cold I brought along with me from that awful journey. Let Spring runs its course and perhaps I’ll be able to tell you more.”

“If Spring is what you need, then you shall have it.”

I chuckled at his exaggeration, “Are you a magician, Cousin, that you can order the seasons to pass more quickly? This is a land of wonders!”

“More wonders than you can ever imagine, sweet Cousin.”

With that, he departed, leaving me with a heavier heart and more misgivings. Had I escaped from a paternal Charybdis, only to fall into the clutches of a cousinly Scylla?

********

**Kai's Tale**

When I remember the beginning of that spring, I can only conjure memories of a growing inner chill, harsher than the weather: an icy wind seemed to blow for days, sweeping Arthur along with it.

For a week, I watched the one I loved like a brother, implacably tread his way among his mixed feelings. Gloomy resentment predominated, but sparks of pride and pig-headedness made him carry on as if nothing was wrong. Only a few perplexed glances in my direction showed me that he had paid any attention to my words. He spoke little, and to the point: hunting parties to organize, weapons stocks to assess, food reserves to share among the needy, manpower to spread over our territories. When one task was done, he immediately assailed the next one: Arthur planned his days like a battle strategy, leaving not one waking hour to chance, to silence or to dreams. At the end of the day, he dozed over his meal and went early to bed.

I let him be; this was the best thing to do. Arthur ignored any attempts at conversation which did not concern the tasks at hand.

When I finally reproached my leader for disregarding for his own security – and ours – being so overwrought at the end of the day that he could hardly keep a clear sight, Arthur regarded me with irritation. “Are you challenging me, Kai?”

I was stunned into silence; I resisted the urge to come back with a jibe and would not allow myself to rise to my leader’s bait. Arthur had enough to endure daily without adding my touchiness to his load. I had said what I had to; it was enough. Let Llud do his part, now!

A few months ago, the tension between us would have degenerated into another of our famed fights, but I could now see the futility of that course. Perhaps marriage had taught me a thing or two…

Rowena bore the brunt of my frustration with Arthur, but even she pleaded forbearance – which I had a hard time following; so I had to bide my time, standing aside like a discarded, unarmed warrior seeing his fellows preparing for combat.

Without yet knowing it, my simile was valid. 

Yorath sent word to Arthur that he had convened a meeting with Cerdig, at his ally's request. The Saxon King had solemnly pledged his honour on Arthur's safety, and Yorath added his assurance to his. Arthur prepared to leave, with a small armed party – _not_ including me. 

It made me more uneasy that I wanted to admit. I knew I had to stay and guard the village, but the realisation made me very edgy. Because of my marriage to Yorath’s daughter, I could no longer assist my chieftain in his war against the Saxons.

When Yorath’s messenger left, I vehemently cursed.

Arthur glared at me, then sighed, his patience wearing thin. “You knew it'd come to that.”

“I don't have to like it.”

“No.” Arthur took a swig of his ale, “You'll like it even less when I order you to go to Cador's and escort Benedicta home. You can tell Cador that Rowena has urgent need of her; your coming will lend credence to that.” 

He put his goblet back on the table and looked at me squarely. “I can't take the risk you'll face the Saxons. I’ll send for Llud tomorrow: when he arrives home, I'll depart.” He lowered his eyes and looked pensively at his goblet. “I cannot trust Lancelin, and I don't want Benedicta to stay there on her own.”

I observed Arthur closely. The names of Cador and Lancelin fell from his lips without the grimace that had recently accompanied them. Whatever these promising signs, I didn’t think he was reconciled to the situation. He was merely being more secretive than usual.

“Jealous?”

“No, cautious. I want you out of the way until I know what it's all about.”

There was no reason to argue the point: I knew Arthur was right. I tried to look on the bright side. “At least, Cador will shortly join the alliance. Even Mark will be pleased to have one of his borders secure, even though he’s had his differences with Cador for years.”

“The dispute over the tin pits?” Arthur shrugged. “We’ll still hear of that grievance for years to come. And our children’s children, I warrant.”

I smiled. “As Llud's grand-father before him! Nothing is new under the sun.” I poured myself some ale and leaned back in my chair. “At least, with the new pact, the whole of Cornwall will be part of our alliance. All to the good, when devising defences.”

Arthur yawned, “Yes, Time is making us stronger. Perhaps, one day, we will be able to repel all invasions. May I see that day!”

We drank in silent companionship for a while. Arthur yawned again, more loudly this time. He finally admitted, “God, I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

I stretched. “I'll leave tomorrow morning. No sense in waiting.”

As I rose to leave, Arthur stopped me. “A word of caution, Kai. Beware of Morged. There are reports that he is extending his trading forays into Cador's territories. Karn's workmanship is appreciated even that far. See that you don't cross his path. He still resents you.”

“ _Resents_ me?” I snickered. “He should _fear_ me.” I bent over the table, looking straight into Arthur's eyes. “Besides, he deprived me of a contest that should have been _mine_ to fight.”

Arthur quietly corrected me. “No. _I_ did. As was my right.”

I conceded, “Perhaps you did. But he used _me_ to get to _you_. And I’d leave that unpunished?”

“You'll have to. If the alliance is to endure.”

“So I will, unwillingly.” I stood up. “But if you imagine that I will forgive his trickery –”

“Neither will I. But that is is not the point. Morged hates you more than ever; you defeated his warriors and your presence is a stinging reminder of his failure. He won't hesitate to stab you in the back.”

“Don't worry. I'm a cautious man.”

Arthur grunted. “And so you’ve proved, again and again and again.”

His censure annoyed me. “Really? I could remind you of your plan to get back the Wood People’s children; or of the day you went alone to trade into Mark’s territories. Remember that?”

But Arthur quickly shooed me away. “Rowena's expecting you.” He raised his goblet to salute me. “You should not keep her waiting.”

I laughed outright. “Brother, how you leap to my bait!” Seeing how tired he looked, I turned to leave. “Don’t expect me to desist. These exploits of yours merit the retelling, and I shall, one day. It would be even better to wait for Llud to do so, anyway…”

“Kai, you grow more and more tiresome each day! Perhaps I erred: marriage doesn’t agree with you after all!”

“Oh, you’ve been known to be wrong,” I declared, as I crossed the room.

Arthur yawned once more. “Perhaps I have,” he replied. “As I was most recently told, 'to strike your man, you need rest.'” He winked.

********

**Benedicta's Tale**

A messenger from Arthur came, telling Llud that he was urgently needed. Suddenly aware that the old warrior's presence was very comforting, I was sorry to see him go. He was not a talkative man, but his words – and more importantly, actions – were to the point. I liked that, having seen too many hopelessly inefficient nattering fools.

I’d often felt the urge to tell Arthur’s mentor of my troubles with my husband, admit my wrongdoing, and beg for his advice, but I abstained. When I thought of our quarrel, I felt very foolish and more than a little anxious. In the end, I’d managed to convince myself that I was transforming the molehill that was, after all, a normal dispute in marital life, into a mountain.

But when I saw Llud spurring his horse towards the gates, I ran to him, and clasped his knee; standing on tiptoes, I urgently whispered, “Llud, please tell Arthur that I – that I truly repent my shrewish ways. I'm sorry, truly I am.”

Llud grinned. “I don't doubt he realises it by now. Don't worry too much, Girl, he will unbend.”

I looked back at him with new hope, “Do you think so? Pride will be my undoing. I know, and yet –”

“– But it is very difficult to swallow it, isn't it?” He wryly smiled. “Admitting it is the beginning of wisdom.”

“It is not wisdom I wish for, but Arthur's forgiveness and love!”

“I'll tell him.”

As he rode out the gate, I suddenly felt very much alone.

****

Without Llud's presence, the days dragged. In the midst of my family, I felt more an outsider than I did in Arthur's camp, despite my willingness to be pleased with my kinfolk. People treated me with a careful courtesy; being Cador’s cousin set me apart from them and I could not readily bridge the divide. I tried to make a friend of Anna but, though she was quick to serve me, she did not respond to my overtures of friendship. I sorely missed Rowena. There was no one here I could _talk_ to.

To add insult to injury, I began to be thoroughly sick in the morning. And I knew that the Cornish food wasn’t the cause of it.

Lancelin, I didn’t quite know what to make of. He had a kind of charm that was somewhat forced, like one of the actors I had seen in Rome. But unlike them, my cousin didn’t wear a painted mask he could take off at will, and – one evening – I found out why.

I was strolling in the yard after the last meal. The night was crisp and clear, and the moon was so huge the shadows were cast as in full daylight. It was not a night for early sleep. How I wished I could wander under that moon, holding Arthur’s hand, and whispering sweet nothings in his ear!

This night was certainly an encouragement for lovers. As I walked past the stables, I heard muted voices the unmistakable sounds of energetic lovemaking. This was quite embarrassing.

I was about to retreat when I recognised Lancelin’s voice. I stepped aside in the shadows, behind a fence. As I stooped to make myself less conspicuous, hoping to get away without being noticed, I saw, through the open door, that - half-concealed in one of the booths – Lancelin was having his way with one of Cador’s servants. The young man was bent over, grasping at the wooden partition with tightening knuckles.

I smothered a gasp of disbelief, and slowly retreated out of sight.

All the little details that I had remarked upon suddenly came together.

I had been a fool not to understand before. Hadn’t I had seen close up the need for concealment, and the misery that this kind of love carried with it? **[NOTE 8]** I knew my brother’s secret long before he disclosed it to me. My father Caius Camillus had not cared much about it: he thought young men had to sow their wild oats. However, he no longer found it a joking matter when my brother adamantly refused the match he had arranged for him. That was incredibly imprudent of him to decline my father’s orders: he could have both, I told him. Any deceit – even one which would jeopardize his salvation – was better than openly defying our unforgiving sire’s commands. **[NOTE 9]** I feared for my brother even more when I understood that his lover was of a patrician family – a Patrocles to his Achilles – so the scandal was harder to hush up. So – on my father’s orders, Nestor killed him, making it look like suicide, and thus denying him burial in hallowed ground, despite my pleas.

Despair and self-destruction were now mortal sins, or so the priests told us. **[NOTE 10]** As he had lived in shame, he would lie forever tainted by his suicide, without hope for redeeming grace, Nestor gloated. How I loathed my father’s minion!

And now I knew that Lancelin was part of that shamed melancholy army. **[NOTE 11]** Had he wooed me as part of an intricate game or was it just his habitual smoke screen? Disappointment made me seethe with fury. I had truly liked my kinsman and foolishly believed the reverse was true. Recognizing that all his words and actions had been sophisticated playacting was a set down… Apart from my brother, would I find no one worthy of my affection in my family?

I tried to shrug the thought away. The answer was not that important, even if it were a sad blow to my self-esteem. I hoped against reason that the days would flow away more quickly and that I would be rescued from these shifting sands to the safety of home.

I began to repent bitterly of my stubbornness. Arthur had been right to be on his guard, and this realisation made me intensely ashamed of myself.

********

Cador didn’t spend much time entertaining me. When he did, he talked to me of my mother Rhiannon, of their youth together before she fled to Armorica before the advance of the rampaging Saxon mercenaries. He also asked a lot of questions, designed to ascertain who I was as a woman, and how life had moulded me. My resourcefulness pleased him, I felt, provided I wasn’t _too_ independent. How like a man! In this respect, he wasn't so different from Arthur.

One night, the purpose of his interrogations became clearer, and another seed of uneasiness took root in my mind. 

As Cador told one anecdote after another about his past, he suddenly said, “I was once betrothed to her, you know. A fine woman, a very fine woman, she was.”

I nodded. As I had told him countless times that I only dimly remembered Mother, I did not see what else to add.

Cador poured himself more wine. I toyed with my half-empty cup. This vintage gave me a headache; next time, I would have to ask for it to be mixed with more water.

“— So it is fitting that, what we couldn’t achieve then, you and Lancelin will.”

I started and dropped my cup. The wine spilled on my dress, and the cup bounced on the table, and rolled on the floor. Hastily I rose, and brushed very ineffectually at the cloth.

“L—Lancelin?” I stammered. “Marry? But, my lord, I’m already married.”

As if I hadn't interrupted him, Cador merely smiled. “It is a woman’s duty to do so. You have been married before, so it is no great novelty to you, surely.”

“I have, yes, at my father's biding. And now I am Arthur's lawful wife.” I circled the table and knelt at Cador’s feet. “Cador – my lord, I am really grateful for your kindness and hospitality, but I cannot marry Lancelin. Truly, I cannot.”

Cador’s eyes bored into mine. There was a muddy undercurrent shifting in the sea blue of his eyes. “Is there something that displeases you about my son?”

I shook my head. “No. He is perfectly courteous and kind to me. But that is not the –”

“Something you have heard, perhaps? Or seen?” the chieftain insisted. **[NOTE 12]**

“None, truly. Once, I would have been honoured by his suit, but it is far too late.”

“Ungrateful girl! You are your father's daughter!” 

I uttered an inarticulate protest. 

Cador ignored it. “Your best atonement for your father's actions will be to obey me. We have come full circle, my dear. All you have to do is step into the pattern.” He patted my hand. “You have very little choice, Benedicta. Don’t make a tyrant of me.”

I merely stared at him, panic-stricken and totally bereft of speech. Was I, who had so rashly talked to Arthur of prisons, to be a captive of my kinsmen?

********

**Arthur's Tale**

Cerdig was very much the same. He commented on Kai's absence, saying that he hoped he was well, and regretting that he had been unable to visit his father-in-law.

I clenched my teeth. If this was the way our meeting was to proceed, I would need both hands to rein on my temper.

Yorath didn't see malice in his Saxon 'friend''s taunts. He jovially expanded on Rowena's increase, jesting about the upcoming birth of her son.

I smothered a smile. Woe to Rowena if she produced a girl! Yorath would not leave her in peace till his eagerly awaited grandson saw the light of day.

But Kai and Rowena's news was not merely a way to ease the talk into more serious matters. 

Cerdig squared himself in his chair and looked unflinchingly at me. “My young friend – you won't take it amiss if I call you that? – Kai's marriage puts you in an awkward position.”

He waited for my reaction. I didn’t want to please him so easily; my face expressed nothing. 

After a while, seeing that I would not rise to the bait, Cerdig gleefully added, “He cannot fight me.”

I merely admitted, “As to that, you speak the truth.”

Cerdig leaned towards me, his hard eyes gleaming in the light. “They say that you are – close.”

“It may be so. But no man – or woman – takes me away from my duty to my people and my land.”

“Indeed, it may be so.” Cerdig smiled. “But Kai, who is as your brother – they say – makes you brother-by-marriage to Rowena.”

“There has been no formal arrangement, but it can be debated,” I dryly replied. 

“No doubt it can be.”

Yorath, who had followed our exchange with a mystified frown, saw an opening, and an answer to his uncertainties. He dived in, “Friend Cerdig, every man knows that Kai rides with Arthur and is in his confidence. What of it?”

Cerdig looked pensively into his cup and tossed his head. A servant came forward, and at Yorath’s order placed another flask of wine on the table, and departed.

The Saxon King poured himself more wine, and looked me in the eyes. “Your mind is quick, Arthur the Bear. Surely you already see the consequences?”

“Being Kai’s – ‘brother’ does not bind me to his involuntarily pledges,” I parried. “Nor my people.”

“No, but it would ease the binding.”

Yorath laughed good-naturedly. “Come, come, both of you. Let’s not fence again… For all the good it did us last time!” He shrewdly appraised Cerdig. “We fear no immediate common threat, but the one you are under, could well press one day on you!” He turned his gaze to me.

I slowly placed my cup on the table. What was Yorath talking about? No word of new invaders had reached me. The Scots had not yet made another attempt. We had managed to circumvent the Picts’ attacks to the northern territories. God forbid they break our lines! Corin and his kin were holding their own as well they could, and would apprise me of new threats, as Corin already had done. My erstwhile pupil was proving to be a secure shield at my back.

Cerdig deeply sighed. Was the old fox faking? He suddenly seemed troubled, and it didn’t seem to be a charade played out for my sake. “Yorath’s right. You may have to abandon your lands to us.” 

I nearly sprang to my feet at his words.

“– But not of our choosing … though we could take them whenever we wanted.” 

I wryly smiled. “Could you? The marshes near my village still remember your last attempt!”

Cerdig let it pass without comment. His silence intrigued me more than his previous words.

“No, Celt!” he went on. “We shall advance upon you because my people no longer have any choice. There are some of us, who come from across the seas, who won’t stop at my eastern boundaries, and would invade my lands, despite their former pledges to me. Traitors and butchers, every one of them!”

This was interesting news, if it were true. Having Cerdig engaged between two lines of battle would perhaps give me a respite. _If the wolves were tearing at each other’s throats…_

My relieved musing lasted only until Cerdig explained that one of his by-blows, a bastard son, born from a slave– anger and bitterness eating at his heart at not finding in Cerdig’s camp the honour he craved – had betrayed favours and kin to carve himself a kingdom out of the Saxon King’s land. This Hoxel **[NOTE 13]** – for such was his name – had offered his arms and knowledge of Cerdig’s territories to one come lately from their maternal land, who would help to supplant him if he could. 

And Hoxel’s knowledge of Cerdig’s arms and of his mind – this, Cerdig didn’t say aloud, but I divined – was potentially devastating; Hoxel’s new allies – men no tribe would acknowledge, mercenaries without loyalty, outlaws - were dealing serious blows to Cerdig, who hadn’t expected to be plagued by his own kind on such a scale. Hard-pressed under this unrelenting assault, Cerdig might have no other choice than to conquer new lands – Celt lands - to grow fresh crops to feed his people. We Celts would be equally hard-put to slow them down.

I knew he was right. Saxons were ferocious fighters when they were just seeking aggrandisement. If it became a matter of survival, they would be near unstoppable – even against our combined forces. Moreover, Hoxel had an old score to settle with me … I thought Mark had despatched him when last we met; I now knew that I had erred believing it.

I quickly measured Yorath up. His eyes went to each of us in turn, weighing Cerdig’s words and their impact on me. I drummed my fingers on the table, unwittingly betraying my tension. The Saxon King’s glare focused on my hands; with a great effort, I stilled them.

His news had disconcerted me more than I realised. Even if my new alliance with Cador was sound, it would not buy me the sanctuary of Yorath’s front: Kai’s father-by-marriage held some of the marches between this new Saxon threat and the Celtic territories. Despite our pact of mutual assistance, if Yorath didn’t hold his own to stop this northern Saxon menace, we could all be swept along with it. All I could do was reinforce our borders and hope that Cerdig’s forces _would_ be crushed between the Celts and his contenders… before tackling the new master of his lands. This was a bet I wasn’t keen to enter into.

Cerdig concluded his speech by saying, “So, you see, my young friend, how important family ties are…”

Decidedly the man was a shrewd one! By presenting his – temporary? – alliance with me as an indirect consequence of Kai’s marriage, he would allow me to save face. I would thus demonstrate my goodwill and assistance to my allies and kin-by-marriage before another common threat. The land bound us together despite our reluctance. I wondered if Cerdig was already pestered by Hoxel when he had ensured that Kai could not escape from a matrimonial alliance with Yorath… Perhaps Cerdig _could_ see further than his adamant enmity with the Celts… Perhaps he was as tired of war as we were, and perhaps my dream of concluding an alliance more lasting that this temporary truce wasn’t so far off. 

But even a short respite from the hostilities could give us enough time to reinforce our armies, and drive the Picts from our lands, and would ensure that Cerdig’s Saxons would not cross our borders for a while.

Yorath had not said a word during Cerdig’s discourse. A new pact between Celts and Saxons would wipe out the bloodstain of the last attempt, redeem his honour and release him from having to choose between his allies. He would have all to gain.

I may have all to lose. If I could not convince all my Celtic allies of the advantages of an armed truce between us, I may well have to concern myself, not with our old common Saxon enemies, but with strife and dissent among the Celtic chieftains. Which threat was the more lethal?

So I delayed my answer and merely told Cerdig that I would respond to his proposed pact when I had convened a meeting of the other chieftains. 

We parted with protestations of goodwill that rang less false than usual. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**NOTES**

**NOTE 3:** Benedicta is lying, of course… She is older. Twenty-four is not so young when a girl could be married at 15.

**NOTE 4:** Arthur would rather buy weapons and horses than furniture… but Benedicta still thinks like a Roman patrician. All through the period, the Celts kept trading with Mediterranean merchants.

**NOTE 5:** Being a woman, Benedicta has nothing in her name. Being a a widow, her first husband’s estates would be run by her nearest remaining male relative.

**NOTE 6:** The picture of the ‘ideal woman’, according to some Christian customs.

**NOTE 7:** This definition of love is the subject of many twelfth century tales.  
Benedicta counters Lancelin’s “courtly” manners with an allusion to “lowly” folk tales. Traditionally, Lancelot is the prototype of the courtier in the _Matter of Britain_ and his relationship with Guinevere is one of “courtly love”, especially in _The Knight of the Cart_ … They are entirely at cross-purpose.

**NOTE 8:** Benedicta’s point of view is absolutely typical from a high-born Roman woman, raised in the ‘City of Saint Peter’ as a Christian. According to the Church Fathers, _all_ sexual practices which weren’t conductive to procreation were sinful and strictly forbidden. (Homosexuality, most of all, among many others.) Chastity and virginity were praised above all… and even marital sexual intercourse was strictly regulated by Church Law. Homosexuals had to lead a double life.

**NOTE 9:** Benedicta’s advice to her brother was unthinkable for her times: according to her religious beliefs, she advised him to commit several sins (adultery and to keep practising sodomy) rather than openly disobey their father (another sin, as the children’s duty was strict obedience). So she was party to his deceit. According to Christian beliefs, Benedicta’s soul is in  deep trouble… Her departure from all she was taught shows that she cared for her brother very much and was obviously terrified by their father.

**NOTE 10:** Despite being considered an honourable death in Classical Antiquity, suicide became a mortal sin in a Christian society: man sinned both in destroying God’s creation and despairing of His mercy. People who committed suicide could not have a Christian burial in hallowed ground, no prayers could be said for them and they were promised to eternal damnation…  
Obviously the Church also used this scandal to make an example of Benedicta’s brother, as he was high-born… However Caius Camillus’ revenge is two-edged; he managed to strike back against his son by conniving his murder and covering it as a suicide, but he also had to bear the public shame of it… But that very unsavoury character probably didn’t care at all! As for Benedicta, this trauma seems to have given her some estrangement (“ _or so the priests told us_ ”) from some of her Christian beliefs…  
Benedicta’s family is HUGELY dysfunctional: I piled up nearly all the sins a fifth or sixth century AD Christian society would be horrified of: abduction and rape (Benedicta’s mother at the hand of her husband), (threatened) incest (Benedicta from her father), homosexuality, murder, infanticide and (apparent) suicide.

**NOTE 11:** In Christendom, homosexuals were outcasts who were publicly shamed and hunted down, so they could not live in the open (which is “ _melancholy_ ”). Moreover, Benedicta suspects that her brother, a soldier, wasn't the only one who had to pretend.

**NOTE 12:** Cador and Lancelin are Christian converts (hence the previous mentioning of Abbot Denzel); the new faith was gaining ground in Cornwall. Lancelin  had to marry for political reasons, whatever his personal preferences: he must sire a legitimate heir. Moreover, Cador is obsessed with his failed marriage with Rhiannon.

**NOTE 13** ‘ _The Prize_ ’ (S1E12)


	3. Chapter 3

**Benedicta's Tale**

Ever since Cador had spoken to me, I’d kept as much to myself as I could. The constrictions of a woman's life were never more apparent than in this barbaric world. **[NOTE 14]** While I had lived in my father's – then in my first husband's – house, I had taken my limitations as a matter of normalcy. Here, everything was strange and new, and for that reason, worthy of consideration. I began to realise that Arthur's orders were not the mark of an autocratic mind, but of his consideration for my safety. I counted the days before Kai came to take me away, as Llud had said he would.

Lancelin was abjectly apologetic when we met. He told me that he rued Cador's ruthless announcement; I was now so suspicious of my kinsmen that I only half-believed him: the falsity of his speech was so patent that I wanted to scream at him. His discourses now left me as cold as a marble goddess. However I wronged him: from then on, Lancelin did all he could to be agreeable to me, and tried to make me forget that his father wanted us to marry. He took me riding, and entertained me with gossip – some of which was very funny, as he had a satirical turn of mind. He was congenial enough as a cousin. But whatever his exertions, I couldn't banish the worry from my mind. I could not picture him as a lifelong mate, even if I had been free to do so.

But he wasn't my only companion. Feeling secure in my compliance – however incredible it may seem – Cador began proudly to present me as 'a daughter of his hearth', and ‘the consolation of his old age.’ These endearments sounded like mockery to my ears; this could only be the tying of another fetter. His words were just designed to try to trap me, but whatever the reason, I had to preside over endless feasts and gatherings. Till now, I had believed that we Romans were the better in organizing feasts but I soon learned that Celts are no less boisterous and cordial. 

I was introduced to some neighbourhood ‘kings’. Mark of Cornwall, I looked at with undisguised interest. I found him very like the portrait Rowena had drawn of him, a choleric and boasting man. He never minced his words with Cador, but their disputes always ended with hearty assurances of friendship. Whatever my objections, I liked him better than one Morged, living in the West. A diminutive wiry man, his relatively small stature was matched by his demeanour; his little sunken eyes held an expression of cagey shiftiness I didn't like. Me, he looked at as an unimportant nonentity, then he softened and paid me some attention. To Lancelin, he showed a friendly partiality that bode not well to my prejudiced eyes. For that matter, I found his man Karn's curt harshness much more to my taste. He measured everyone up like opponents. But the craftsman departed the day after he had arrived, having concluded his trading to his satisfaction. Morged stayed on, after their deal with Cador was concluded. Would it have been the reverse!

********

**Kai's Tale**

My journey was uneventful and it passed pleasantly, thanks to Conroy. I had met him on the road, and we travelled together to Cador's. Two is always better company than one, when it is cheerful.

Conroy was a lusty, ebullient, noisy youth of twenty years – the son of Druce, one of Llud's old friends – who was travelling South for some trading. He had heard of some new opportunities for selling his wares in Cornwall and was tentatively prospecting. He displayed some of his goods with pride. His leather workmanship was indeed elaborately beautiful: girdles, scabbards and satchels, smoothed to soft brown or dyed in colours designed to appeal to the ladies' eyes. I could well see that the novelty – and the loveliness – of the work would gain him new customers. His obstinacy served him well, in his bartering. I had the proof of that when I finally agreed to buy some trinkets for Rowena, not without impressing upon him that I was also doing it as a courtesy to my father's friend. This didn't bother him at all.

We arrived at Cador's village on a late afternoon. My greeting from the chieftain was less voluble than Conroy’s, but it was nonetheless friendly. Father and son were strikingly different. Lancelin, I found just as trying as when I first met him, and his choice of companion did nothing to endear him to me. His present bosom friend was none other than Morged. He had accompanied Karn, but his blacksmith had already departed, so why was this fucking trickster lingering here?

As I saluted Lancelin, Morged ignored me, as I did him; I had promised my leader I would, but it wasn't an easy pledge to keep. The hairs rose on the back of my neck; Morged was watching me as closely as I was, him.

Cador agreed to let Benedicta return with me, merely requesting our presence at a forthcoming feast to honour his guests. As it would only delay us for one day, I agreed.

I didn’t get to see Arthur's consort till we strode into the feast hall.

********

The evening feast was apparently typical of Cador’s arrangements: lavish servings of food and plenty of wine and ale. However, talk was spare among the revellers, even if Conroy's good humour managed to bridge uncomfortable gaps in the conversations. Fortunately, the minstrel’s songs provided an excuse for my silence. I had not been able to exchange more than three words with Benedicta. When she saw me, she feverishly grasped at my arm with an obvious relief. Why! She looked as if she had to restrain herself from hugging me. Such a welcome startled me, to say the least. Was she that bored already? Or did she miss Arthur as I told him she would?

The repast was progressing lazily to an end, when, at her cousin’s request, Benedicta ceremonially poured wine for the more exalted guests. She first served me, Arthur’s envoy, then turned to Morged. He took the glass of wine, and deliberately let it fall. The glass vessel shattered. The red wine splashed; the drops stood out like blood on Benedicta’s white dress.

She took a step back, in surprised dismay. Lancelin, who was seated next to Morged seemed to have been shaken from a very pleasant dream. I warily watched the proceedings, and set my own drink down on the table, bracing myself to rise. All went still.

In that sudden silence, Morged’s words were heard by all. “I won’t take wine from a sullied hand.”

Cador, who had watched Morged with obvious chagrin, leisurely rose. “I beg you’ll explain yourself, Morged, or I’ll forget you’re a guest under my roof!”

The man who had just insulted Benedicta took his time to answer his host. “Very easily, Cador.” He smiled and took her disdainfully by the hand, imperilling the jug of wine she still held. “That woman has been Arthur of the West’s whore for months. Are you taking in his discarded rags? And the whelp, too? Who may be his – or not?” 

Benedicta gasped and went a distinct shade of green. 

I drew a breath. _What whelp? Ohh … Benedicta was with child … Had Arthur known, he never would have let her come here. Clearly Benedicta had not thought to share this interesting piece of news before she departed..._

The woman protested with an inborn dignity, “You are a liar. I am no one’s whore!”

Morged wasn’t taken aback by her denial. “Do you deny that you shared his bed for weeks?”

“I do not. It is my right, as –”

“The Lady Benedicta is Arthur’s wedded consort.” I rose, without haste, and went to her side.

She glanced at me in surprise, then determinedly met Morged’s gaze, 

All of a sudden, Cador spoke. “She’s not. The Saxon-born is lying.” 

I turned my head and glared at him. Cador was growing purple in the face, glaring pointedly at Lancelin. 

Benedicta swallowed noisily. “How dare you utter this lie? I’m Arthur’s wife, and well you know it, even if you don’t want to admit it. What is at stake, Cousin?”

As if she had not uttered a word, Morged turned on his heels and faced me. “So, Saxon,” he drawled, “what is _your_ stake in this?”

I shrugged. From the corner of my eyes, I saw that Lancelin had risen too; his hand was slowly creeping to his sword hilt. “The same I have always upheld. My leader’s honour.”

Morged snorted. “Honour? What can you know about honour?” He looked at Benedicta, then at me, and, with a smile that cracked open his face like an evisceration, added: “Or is it that your stakes in this are – personal? Everyone knows that you cannot resist a pretty face –”

Benedicta bristled. I put a restraining hand on her arm. “Lady, let scorn be your answer. Don’t engage the mud which tries to stain you.”

“– and that pretty female faces are not the only ones who tempt you. Your leader has known it well for many years - first hand! I’ll warrant he still does!”

I knocked my chair to the floor behind me. It took all my self-control, not to smash it over Morged’s head. Despite Arthur's command, I could not let this foul mouth besmirch his name – and mine. I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Cador, I ask that it may be put to the proof.” Without waiting for his leave, I added, “Morged, I claim the right to settle this matter by wager of battle. The one that previously was denied me, remember?” I snorted. “Or do you so fear me that you will hide again like a half-witted child behind your champion?”

I surveyed the tongue-tied crowd. “No. I see that Karn isn’t here.” I hooked Morged’s eyes with mine. He had a hard time sustaining my glare. “Or would you rather wait for him to take your place?”

Morged flushed with anger. “Proud words, Saxon! May they be your last!”

Behind me, Benedicta nervously clutched at my sleeve. “Kai, don’t! There is no need to fight for my sake. Think of Rowena! Think of your unborn child! This will pass; Truth is the daughter of Time.” **[NOTE 15]**

“Silence, Woman! Stay at your place.” 

She shut her mouth on her protest. 

I added, more for the attentive audience than for her sake, “Do you think me afraid of this weasel?” 

She shook her head; her eyes had a stricken look.

Morged had not moved. Neither had Lancelin, who looked utterly taken aback. 

Before anyone could object, Benedicta announced in a voice without inflection, “I accept Kai, son of Llud, as a champion to redeem my lord's honour and mine,” then she departed the hall, head held high. As she swept away, I saw that her hands were trembling. She had to hide them in the folds of her dress.

Once she had gone out, I added. “Custom demands that solemn pledges be sworn.”

Morged assented, and announced, his voice ringing, “I accuse you, Kai, the Saxon-born, of having your way with the – _Lady_ Benedicta, and with her so-called husband, who is but a woman in your bed. This, I swear, is nothing but the truth!”

I countered him, holding my wrath in check. “Hear mine! I say you are forsworn and I solemnly accuse you of slandering the good name of my lord and of his wife, the Lady Benedicta.” 

There were some mutterings. They stopped, as I added, “May the liar be silenced forever! Hear this, Snake! I swear that when I overpower you, I’ll show no mercy.”

With that, I left the hall, and stood outside the door, looking up at the stars. 

What had I done? Arthur would not be pleased.

But Morged had left me with no choice. I’d been aware of some veiled insinuations in the past, but I had always shrugged it aside. The viper tongues knew better than to say it openly to my face. Our emotional bond and mutual trust prompted curiosity. Blood brothers could not be closer than we were, and we were so unlike that it was a wonder. I knew what damage such an accusation could inflict on Arthur's command, from those already prone to mock his slight frame and fine features, waving aside his prowess at war and his fine-honed mind. As a boy, he had endured, when deriders called him names because of it. As a man, he had belittled it, his patient and cunning weaving of the Celtic alliance under his banner, an obvious proof of his leadership and manliness.

And this open accusation of unfaithfulness was not to be taken lightly, for that was what Morged was truly implying: Arthur’s loss of honour and untrustworthiness. It could not be said that Arthur kept a lover after he had pledged himself to his wedded wife. Arthur's integrity would be diminished. It might even disrupt the alliance. **[NOTE 16]**

And if these rumours were to reach Rowena’s ears, she would be deeply hurt. No one would threaten my wife’s happiness; this, I swore.

********

**Benedicta’s Tale**

_“And the whelp, too?”_

Morged's words floored me. How did he know? How could he know? I’d only just realised it myself. 

Anna, it must be from Anna... Was she set by Morged to spy on me? She had witnessed my morning sickness many times. I could only be from her that he had this knowledge. I began to shake with repressed rage. However, when I questioned her, she denied everything, bursting into tears at my insistent probing. 

So no one could accuse Morged of taking advantage of the circumstances, the combat was scheduled to take place in two days' time, when Kai would be rested from his journey. Morged, as the one challenged, had the choice of weapons. Believing that it would put Kai at a disadvantage, he had chosen short swords, with combat to be joined on foot. 

At that announcement, Kai's smile was ferocious.

Conroy, a young man of Kai's acquaintance, served as his second. When I had retired to my hut, on the momentous night when Kai had challenged Morged, he had requested an audience with me. I was glad of it, for if I had sought to see Kai privately, Morged, who had labelled me 'Arthur's whore' then 'Kai's lover' – a subtly discriminating accusation – would certainly have heard of it, which would have made matters worse than they already were. On the other hand, not to do so seemed very callous in my eyes, so Conroy was very handy as my messenger. Kai must be told of Cador’s desire to see me wed to his son and heir… Perhaps this obsession of his was the explanation of this Gordian knot.

I already suspected that I would be powerless to prevent this trial by combat, and Conroy put an end to my faint hope. I had not missed the overt antagonism between Kai and Morged; trust Kai to revert to his roots when it suited him and fully embrace this Saxon custom! **[NOTE 17]** I was just the pretext for the resolution of a long-standing feud between Arthur and Morged. Conroy told me how Morged had set Kai up, to force Arthur to fight Karn, the best swordsman in the land. In the end, my husband had emerged the victor, and not only of this one contrived fight.

Now, we were faced with another _judicium Dei_ [Judgement of God] of sorts. He who lost had been judged by Heaven: the Almighty would point out the truth by granting victory to the man who was honest and true. Would that this be indeed the Truth! This might be but a man's victory in a man's world, not the inevitability of Veracity. **[NOTE 18]**

Not that I had misgivings. I suspected that Kai's Gods – whomever they were – would find his axe arm more efficient to serve them than any prayer. Nonetheless I prayed for Kai’s safety and that this underhand attack against Arthur would prove the last from his supposed allies... 

_If_ Morged had been lying about the nature of Arthur and Kai's bond… I no longer knew what to believe.

During my sleepless night, uncertainty slowly crept, slinking into my mind with careful advance, making me remember smiles, touches, eyes locking together; small things that made me abruptly wonder if I had not been as heedless as I had been blind regarding Lancelin.

With one blow, Morged had cast aspersions on Arthur, his right-hand man, his consort, and his future heir.

Somewhere, I knew the Dark Powers, all of them, were maliciously laughing.

********

Absolutely desperate with worry, I witnessed the combat, as was my right. **[NOTE 19]**

A space had been marked out in a nearby field, and combat was to be at noon. 

At dawn, I came out of my hut, my eyes heavy with sleep, having spent the night feverishly tossing and turning upon my bed. I saw Lancelin in my path. I had managed to avoid him since the fateful feast. His amity with Morged, I viewed with an overt horror; what part he had played in the slandering of my household, I could only guess. I was about to pass him as if he were not there, but Lancelin grabbed my arm, and as I didn't want to make a public scene, I stopped to listen.

“Benedicta, I want you to know … I would have spoken to be your champion, had not Kai been so hasty.”

“Indeed?”

Could I believe him?

“Hasty?” I replied, “He was not. My brother served me well, and I'm grateful to him.”

“ _Brother_?” Lancelin looked thunderstruck.

As I was a woman, and a spiteful one, at that, I added, “When you asked me if there was no one worth anything to me in this land, I should have told you that Rowena and Kai are worth more to me than all I ever held precious in Rome.”

I saw a troubled look cross his face.

“Rowena is the sister I dreamed of; and I owe my life to Kai, twice over. Indeed, if not for his support, I would not be my lord's wife.”

Lancelin lowered his eyes. “Then my suit is hopeless ...”

“It is! How can you – can anyone – believe that I would be satisfied with any other man, after being Arthur's consort? Even if he cast me away, I would keep my troth.” I saw my words sink in, so I relented, “Lancelin, I would be glad of your friendship, but I cannot condone this insanity! What is the meaning of all this? Is Cador so keen on our unfeasible marriage that he will turn a blind eye to anything that gets in the way of his plans?”

My cousin slowly pulled me towards the path to one of the empty guest huts, nearest to the combat ground. 

“Come and partake of some food. The day will be long...” 

I shook my head. “It is not food I need, but an explanation.”

“You will have it.”

My incredulity must have shown on my face.

“You will!”

“I'll hold you to that,” I answered coldly.

I was surprised, and pleased to see Conroy enter; Lancelin nodded to me, and withdrew.

Conroy’s worry about Kai could not entirely cloud his smile. I found his optimism invigorating, and held on to it. My confidence increased when I saw the weapon Kai was to use, lying ready on the table. It had come originally from Rome. I stroked the steel with my fingertips, tracing the faded letters. One could still spell out 'CAES ENSIS CALIBVRNVS' engraved on the blade. **[NOTE 20]** I even knew the feel of this sword: the edge had rested on my throat for an eternity as Nestor was about to kill me. **[NOTE 21]** I had been so shocked at my brush with death that I had never asked what became of it, after Nestor dropped it on the ground. I had assumed it still lay among the grass, near his putrid body.

I turned to see that Conroy had tactfully gone out: Kai now stood in the entrance to the room. He looked as he ever did, but his eyes held a steely glint and a sort of glee that predicted ill for Morged. He nodded a greeting to me.

I hastened to say, “Once more, I’m beholden to you. Will there be no end to my debts?”

Kai smiled, with a boyishness that was as unexpected as it was refreshing. “You’re not – not this time. It’s I who am beholden to you. I promised Arthur I would not engage Morged, but you have provided me with an unassailable reason for doing so.” His smile widened and took a resolute cast. “This time, Morged won’t live to tell the tale.”

“Is it to the death, then?” I shuddered. I knew that some trials by combat could be stopped at first blood. “Won’t you be satisfied in proving him wrong?” 

“Wrong? He is wrong.” Kai shrewdly looked at me. 

I felt myself blushing. 

“Do you doubt it, Benedicta? Surely _you_ are aware that I’ve never known you?”

I could not meet his eyes. This was not the reassurance I sought. 

Kai burst out laughing. He stepped forward and lifted my chin with a careless finger. “I’ll leave you to your doubts, then, if you can’t work it out for yourself.”

I tried to turn my head away. 

He chuckled, “ _Women_! Always craving words instead of deeds!”

I swallowed. Hope filled me. Could it be – could I have wronged them? Surely, Kai wouldn’t publicly fight to defend a wrong he had committed?

Kai let me go and turned to the bed. He picked up the sword and looked pensively at it. “This was to be a gift for Arthur. Its worth will be redoubled, by the despatching of one unredeemable enemy.”

I knew then that there was no escape from this madness: Kai relished it. The cup had to be emptied to the bitter end.

********

If I had not been Cador’s cousin, I would have had some trouble finding a way through the crowd to the enclosure delimiting the field of combat. Lancelin led me to a seat on the makeshift dais which held chairs for Cador, Lancelin and I. I sat in silence, simply greeting my elder cousin with a nod. I clawed at the carved arms of the chair so tightly that my fingers ached.

When both men entered the ring, an abrupt hush fell on the crowd. Cador spoke a few words; I was so troubled that I paid no heed to them. 

Then Anna stepped forward. She held two cups in her hands and presented them to the combatants.

Morged, who was standing to her right, took the cup she was holding in her left hand. That unusual gesture brought a perplexed frown to Kai’s face. He had no choice than to seize the leftover cup of wine, but instead of drinking it, like Morged had done, he let the wine drip to the floor, saying,

“I will accept wine from Princess Benedicta later, to celebrate her vindication.”

Anna looked over her shoulder at Cador. Her face held a near-panicked expression. Morged’s expressed only fury; at Kai’s mirroring of his insult or at his trouncing some novel stratagem, I don’t know. 

I sneaked a look at Cador; he wore the same expression of dismayed anger. To my now suspicious mind, there was no doubt that the wine intended for Kai was drugged. What new trick would our enemies get out of their sleeves now?

Neither man used a shield nor wore metal of any sort that could deflect the blows. Leather, linen and fragile flesh would have to give way before steel and God’s Truth.

As soon as the signal was given, Kai fought with such fury that he used his short sword without pausing; his thrusts and Morged’s harried parrying were so quick that my eyes were hard put to follow their moves. I thought that Morged’s strength would be quickly extinguished by such burning ferocity; Kai’s size made the other man seem no more than a youngster in comparison.

However I was flabbergasted to see Morged hold his own; not by using any swordsman’s skills but by acting like a hare before a hound. Some hushed movements made clear what the onlookers thought of his strategy; they would certainly have expressed their reprobation publicly if they had been allowed to do so. **[NOTE 22]**

Cowardly to the last, he didn’t fight as much with the sword than with his legs, leaving as much distance as he could between himself and Arthur's lieutenant. Kai was not making any real progress even if he slowly wore him out, as their skill and agility balanced themselves against the other. Would Morged have the stamina to dodge Kai’s attacks for a long time? I thought not, however it was soon obvious that the Cornish King was fast on his feet, almost faster than Kai.

The latter’s confidence turned to hesitancy as he took stock of it; he engaged Morged again, forcing him to meet him.

The short swords clashed, and sung their deathly song, and clashed again; I had to force my eyes open to witness it.

There was blood on the tip of Kai’s sword, now. It came from Morged’s arm and wrist. Nonetheless, the oozing blood didn’t threaten his hold on his weapon.

Kai was also bleeding from a graze on his cheek: Morged had managed to slip once past his guard, a stroke of luck he would not able to grasp again, I hoped.

They took a step back and eyed each other belligerently.

Morged panted, “I never thought you had it in you, Saxon. Your kind fights with the axe.”

Kai scornfully replied, “There are a lot of things you don’t know, Morged. Romans taught Arthur the short sword. _He_ taught it to me.”

The combat began anew. Kai launched himself at his opponent with renewed vigour. Only quickness of eye and sheer luck saved Morged from Kai’s advance which pressed him back toward us: he was overtly panicking now, barely blocking Kai’s repeated slashes that threatened to overpower him.

As Kai suddenly swung his sword, Morged slipped in the grass, put out his other hand to save himself, and Kai wrenched Morged’s sword from his hand.

Morged lay on his back, winded by the sudden fall, and Kai flung Morged’s sword out of reach, to lie in the mud, still as its owner, and as completely useless. Morged crawled backward, trying to put some space between his victor and himself, but it was futile.

Kai’s short sword followed his every move with a sureness of intent which disclosed Kai’s purpose. My champion’s lithe strength was a match for every slight movement the other man made. 

I wondered where Kai would strike, for strike he would. He had said so and I knew Rowena’s husband enough to understand that he did not make empty threats. My only uncertainty was the means of Morged’s death, but Kai seemed indecisive where to attack. He had ample choice, for his opponent was no longer able to save himself from the inevitable end.

Then Kai shook his head. He lowered his blade slowly. It came to rest by his side, hanging in his hand. However the blade shook in his hold, as if he was straining all his willpower in this simple gesture.

“No,” he said almost incredulously. “No.”

Kai raised Caesar’s sword and let it fall again. 

Then he took a step back, and added, as if still speaking to himself: “No. I won't grant you victory by killing you.” 

He grimly smiled, and looked down at Caesar's sword, then at the crowd which was watching in disbelief.

“You've lost, Morged. The truth has been vindicated. It is enough.”

Morged, still sprawling on the ground, met his eyes. He still looked dazed, apparently not comprehending why he'd been spared.

Kai clarified, “You dead, your legacy would be war between your people and mine. I won't give you that satisfaction. The alliance will endure. Arthur is full right, we Celts must hold together.” 

He smirked at Morged. “You’ll live, knowing that we defeated you. Twice. You won’t be so lucky next time.”

Morged flinched and closed his eyes. He was gasping, and seemed drained of willpower and strength. Painfully, he began to pick himself off the ground; then he bent over to recover his weapon. 

Kai shot him a derisive look and purposely strode toward the edge of the field, but as he approached our dais, Morged stiffened, took a firm grip on his sword, and stealthily advanced upon Kai, so quick and sly that no one had even the time to yell out a warning. 

Kai sensed his approach, and turned to face him; raising Caesar’s sword to parry Morged’s blade. But it was not enough to entirely deflect Morged’s treacherous attempt; Morged's blade sliced Kai's side, tearing the leather tunic, drawing blood.

Kai jerked in pain. He faltered. His sword was flung from his grasp; it lay on the ground, a few feet behind him.

I bit my lip and tasted blood. Cador’s sharp intake of breath echoed as in a nightmare.

Kai was slowly retreating, his eyes never leaving Morged’s, as if he believed that by his sole will, he might prevent him from striking again.

What I saw in the few following seconds went so fast that I had a hard time afterwards reconstructing it in my mind. As Kai reached the place where his sword lay, he swiftly sidestepped to his right, slipped his left foot under the sword hilt, and in a swift motion, flipped the weapon up. Kai found the hilt and struck the traitor fully in the gut with a move so smooth that it seemed as if he had rehearsed a hundred times before.

Morged’s face contorted in surprise, frozen into a stillness forever etched in his features as he fell face down on the ground, at Kai’s feet.

My champion had retracted his blade as soon as it had found its mark. He stood there, gazing down at his would-be murderer. At first he looked bewildered, then grimaced in pain.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

** NOTES **

**NOTE 14** Benedicta uses the adjective “barbaric” in the old meaning: “which is not part of the Roman Empire.”

**NOTE 15:** A partial quote: “ _Truth is the daughter of time, not of authority._ ” (Francis Bacon)

**NOTE 16:** Arthur was married according to the Christian faith (In ‘ _The Girl from Rome_ ’ he asked for the Abbot to tie the knot), so the condemnation of an adulterous liaison would be stronger in that religious setting. If he still had a lover (female or male) after he was married, Arthur would be faithless: it would make obvious that he is unreliable as a leader.  
Since Classical Antiquity, accusations of homosexuality were often used to discredit a ruler, especially if he was accused to be the passive partner. Julius Caesar was famously nicknamed “the husband of all the wives and the wife of all the husbands” by one of his political adversaries. Again, “being passive” is the key slander in these accusations.  
Of course, the irony is that Benedicta is truly horrified when she begins to wonder if Arthur acted in the same manner she advised her brother to act… and as Lancelin is trying to, prompted by Cador. (The story introduces several variations on the theme.) But her attitude isn’t unreasonable as her marriage was a love match (contrary to her brother’s), out of which Arthur gains nothing in terms of political alliance or additional riches (dowry): Benedicta knew that Arthur married her of his own free will, so she expected that Arthur meant and will keep his word.  
Morged’s accusation of Benedicta sleeping with Kai is almost as damaging to Arthur’s leadership: it proves he isn’t able to “master” his woman… who supposedly betrayed him with his brother and lieutenant. Again, it’s a slight against Arthur’s abilities as a leader… besides making him appear ridiculous.

**NOTE 17:** “Trial by combat” (or “wager of battle”) was a Saxon custom. It appears in the “knightly” medieval and Arthurian literature in the 12th century, but doesn’t seem to have been a Celtic custom. The TV series used it in ‘ _The Swordsman_ ’ episode, but it would appear to be anachronistic. However, this is the heart of the matter in Chrétien de Troyes’ novel: in it, Lancelot (who is Guinevere’s lover) fights to redeem her honour, after it is erroneously believed that Guinevere is Sir Kay (Kai)’s lover!

**NOTE 18:** This underlines Benedicta’s estrangement with religion… If we accept that this anachronism is part of the AotB fictional universe, she should believe that The Powers That Be will protect the one who didn’t lie. 

**NOTE 19:** In the Middle Ages, a woman who was accused of unfaithfulness and whose champion failed to redeem her honour would be burned at the stake… Here, no such fate would befall Benedicta.

**NOTE 20:** The Roman sword, is, of course, “Excalibur”. (See _Knucklebones_ )

**NOTE 21:** In _Knucklebones_ , [Part IV](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1552658/chapters/3319865)

**NOTE 22:** The viewers were instructed to stay silent during the combat, in order not to give advantage to one or another of the men. There was a penalty of death if they didn’t. I’ve kept that rule used during the twelfth century trials by combat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Arthur's Tale**

I laid Cerdig’s proposition before the Celts, baldly, without any embellishment, and without hiding my reservations.

To those who hoped that the invaders would do our fighting for us, and that we just would have to wait for the outcome of that quarrel, I answered that Yorath’s lands had also been the theatre of some skirmishes and that the Jute King was now honing his forces for the next assault. We had sworn a mutual treaty of assistance, Yorath and I, and I would have to aid the Jutes. The Celtic tribes who also had treaties with me were bound to their obligation of lending me men and arms to reinforce my defences. There was no unravelling it; our pacts were all intricately bound into a tight-woven tapestry. Cut one thread, and all would fray.

Moreover, we had sent some spies into Saxon lands, and they had all reported the same: devastation of farm lands, killed cattle left to decay near their dead owners, rumours of wild armed parties desolating the land. At least, we knew that Cerdig had not lied. They also told of the Saxon King’s second-born son’s death at the hand of his bastard half-brother. Strife and murder were at work in Cerdig’s tribe, then; we could be sure of that.

During all the meeting, I sorely missed Kai’s shrewd eye and unfailing good humour. But I guessed he would congratulate himself on his lucky escape. His patience – always in short supply – would have been sorely tested, confronted to this bunch of unruly children I presided over; so-called men, unable to see beyond their immediate whims and needs. 

Mark felt he was so far from the immediate line of battle that Cerdig’s proposed pact held no interest for him. 

For Bavick, peace with the Saxons, however fleeting, would deprive him of a battlefield he was pleased to call his own. What his men thought of his boast, he never knew, nor did he care.

Rolf was all for making peace, but his reasons were so contrary to the beliefs of his fellow chieftains that I dearly wished he had remained silent.

What finally convinced them was a paradox: that Cerdig’s proposed peace was constricted to his own life span. There would be time to discuss other treaties and frontiers after his passing. Cerdig hoped to gain so much strength that his successor would wipe out the Celts. We and our sons would have time to spare to prove him wrong, even as we accepted his pact. He would find in us reluctant allies with eyes wide open.

********

**Kai’s Tale**

There is no joy in killing: none. Just weary relief to feel one’s lungs still filling with air; one’s muscles and sinews still responding to one’s will. 

I had not longer wanted to kill Morged once I realised that by doing so, I would also wipe out all Arthur’s efforts for unifying the Celts. 

I had tried to uphold my leader’s peace as well I could, and look what it brought me! Mastering my slaying impulse had not been such an improvement. I ruefully shook my head. What was fitting for Arthur wasn’t for me, it seemed! Not with the like of Morged, anyhow. I had once said that I stayed with Arthur in order to know if his carefully reasoned unity was a way out of this unceasing dissension. I was no better enlightened now than I was then.

Morged was a thorn in the Celts' side; that much was true ... For the present, I had hoped to avenge Arthur's name, and prove that he was true to his word. For him to keep a secret lover when he had recently taken a wedded wife was unthinkable. This, I would prove to all, and so I had done. 

But in sparing Morged, I had hoped to ridicule him once and for all, and squash his capability of causing harm. However, I was not that sorry to have eliminated once and for all a recurrent threat to our peace of mind.

I mentally shrugged. Fate had decided; his treachery was Morged's undoing, and he paid the full price for it.

I managed to walk to Cador’s dais. Each step was harder than the last, the dull ache in my left side progressively changing into a burning hammering that threatened my progress. Still, I managed not to stumble.

When I faced Cador, I saw that he was controlling his displeasure with a discernible effort. Yet, he went through his duty with a commendable flourish, saluting me as the victor, deploring Morged's sly and despicable move, and thanking me as the one who had salvaged Benedicta's reputation. He said nothing about Arthur's. That was telling. Was their forthcoming pact already a thing of the past?

With Conroy's help, I went back to the guest's hut, removed my stained and sticky garment – even a fine seamstress, which Rowena was not, would be hard put to mend it – and flopped down on the bed. My flesh, from what I could see, was badly lacerated. Conroy managed to stop the worst of the bleeding, but each time he released the pressure on the pad, the wound seeped again.

Benedicta's entrance relieved us from our quandary. She brought with her whatever was needed to clean and bind the wound, somewhat alleviating the pain with some medicine or other. However, I refused to swallow the draught she gave me. Experience had taught me that it would also dull my senses, and I needed a fresh mind and as quick and responsive a body as I could. 

I knew we could not stay in that snake pit. I had won over one adversary but I could not defeat another, not if his name was Cador… 

I fought a sudden urge to swear; Benedicta was nothing but trouble. I hadn't had a moment respite since the bloody woman was washed up on our shores... 

As she put away bloodied rags, medicine bag and unused flask, we were surprised by Lancelin's entrance. The man had kept a low profile during the whole proceedings, producing a bland smile when Cador seemed to appeal to his opinion and not venturing anything compromising. My spontaneous distrust of him wasn't impeded by Benedicta's overt look of aversion. 

Conroy, who was standing a little aside behind my bed, put his hand on his dagger.

Lancelin opened his hands in a gesture of good-will. 

Benedicta addressed her cousin with no pretence of politeness. “Lancelin, I hope that this time you will unravel this tangled knot.”

Lancelin smiled diffidently. “This is the reason for my coming. Sit down, Benedicta. You will be more comfortable.”

“I prefer standing, thank you.”

The man acknowledged her impatience with him without surprise. It seemed that their ‘halcyon days’ were already behind them. 

“Morged. What of him?” Benedicta prompted.

“Morged…” Lancelin hesitated. “There was bad blood between Arthur and him.”

“It has no bearing on our present concern.” I tried to turn and face our host, but that simple motion sent flickers of fire up my ribs, so I chose to remain where I was, supported by the pillow. “Go on.”

“Well. Cador is obsessed with Rhiannon, Benedicta’s mother; he wants us” – his gaze encompassed Benedicta and himself – “to re-enact what Fate – “

“And my father!” interrupted Benedicta.

“– prevented. I agreed for, err – reasons of my own.”

Benedicta smiled; a she-wolf could have worn the same expression.

“I understand, better than you could imagine… But could you not have warned me? Is that the real substance of your protestations of affection?”

Lancelin was clearly discomfited. It didn’t appease his cousin’s wrath as she spat: “Let’s not dwell on that, my dear Cousin…”

A deep blush spread over Lancelin’s face, but he continued, “Cador demanded that I play along with his charade. Someone – a man of his choosing – was to insult you; I was to be your champion. You would be then persuaded to marry me.”

“What a well-delineated plan!” Benedicta rolled her eyes. “And did your puppet opponent know he would forfeit his life? I don’t suppose that Cador would let him live, with this dangerous knowledge.”

I didn’t doubt that the man did not care a jot for the life of his would-be opponent… What had they promised their pawn? Gold? Power?

Lancelin bit his lip. “My Father …”

“And Morged?” I demanded. “What did he stand to gain in playing this part?”

Lancelin blanched. “Nothing. He clearly decided to play out his own game. It was so unexpected I was too late picking up his challenge. Morged’s accusations were not of Cador’s doing. Cador merely wanted Benedicta publicly chastened so she would have no other haven than to wed me. But Morged … Kai, he must have wanted you dead.”

Benedicta measured him up; her stare was frosty. “And how did Morged know I bear a child?”

Lancelin shook his head. “I don’t know. Unless … Anna, your handmaiden – she was partial to him …” 

“And you! Would take such a ‘sullied wife’? Your courage is to be commended, Cousin. Should I be grateful to be such a pawn?” She advanced toward him, her eyes filling up with scalding fury. “Or should I praise your stupidity? Was it worth the risk? Taking the chance that Arthur will leave that – an insult to his consort added to a threat against his brother’s life – without retribution?”

Lancelin lowered his gaze and searched mine. My feelings must have shown in my face, because he turned away.

“I know I’ve wronged you. So I’ve come to offer you my help in slipping away.” He shook his head. “And I know my father’s madness makes an alliance between our people impossible, but when I succeed him – if Arthur is still willing – the talks will begin anew between us. I can safely promise that much.”

“So be it.” I nodded.

Lancelin was squeezed between a rock and a hard place: he had no other choice than to help us. If anything untoward happened, Arthur would not leave any clod of earth unturned to find our murderers. Benedicta’s cousin had to let us go, as quickly and secretly as possible; he knew it as well as I did. We had to trust him to arrange our way out of this quagmire.

“Lancelin, we need our horses, our gear, warm clothes for Benedicta, food and no sentries on the gates tonight. You’ll have to divert the chase, when it comes after us.”

“Leave it to me.”

I had no other choice than to do so. If only I could be certain that I was in a fit state to ride...

********

Benedicta had to acquiesce our leaving precipitously. She didn’t yield without a fuss, like women are wont to do: she was quite outspoken at first in her opinion of my imprudence. However, Benedicta could see that speed was of the essence. Tight-lipped, she secured the dressing round my waist. Her ministrations made breathing more difficult, but at least, the wound soon stopped bleeding.

Distrustful of Anna’s scrutiny, Benedicta didn’t return to her hut. She had a good excuse for staying here with us: her vigil over me. Word was spread around that I was worse off than I really felt – Cador even sent his wishes for my recovery. She would have to depart as she was, hoping that Lancelin would gather all what she needed for our journey. Benedicta even joked about it, saying that she was now used to travelling with no more than the clothes on her back; nevertheless, she stuffed as much in the way of salves, medicinal herbs and linen bandages as she could into a bag.

In the middle of the night, when Benedicta, Conroy and I slipped out, the main gates were free of any sentries. What lies Lancelin had told to clear the way, I never knew. Conroy’s horse and mine were tethered a few feet away from the village walls, on a side path leading into the woods. Benedicta would have to ride pillion with Conroy. I swallowed a smile, thinking of our first meeting, and of her adamant refusal to travel in such a manner. She thought of it, too. I could see it in the tiny smile she directed at me.

Lancelin saw us off. He had brought the desired supplies and an additional fur coat for Benedicta. To my shame, I had to lean on him as he assisted me into the saddle. 

As he helped her onto Conroy’s horse, Benedicta held out her hand. “Cousin, my thanks. And my apologies. I misjudged you.” She grinned readily. “Now, I know how Medea felt when she left in a hurry with Jason. This is strange; I didn’t when I fled from Gaul.”

Lancelin’s eyes twinkled back. "You would have buried each piece of the bodies very tidily before fleeing." **[NOTE 23]**

Benedicta chuckled. “It’s true – I don’t like untidiness.”

Lancelin smiled. “But sometimes, discretion is the better part of valour.”

“Perhaps, you’re right,” I said. 

And with that, we departed.

********

When the sun rose, I was even more unstable on my horse than I had when we left Cador’s village. I had gone on, clenching my teeth, arrogance and sheer cussedness coming to my aid. Now, they could no longer sustain me. Even I was aware of it.

Conroy, who had taken the lead, had slowed our progress from a canter to a walk, but even so, I felt the reins slip from my grasp and only saved myself from falling by grabbing my horse’s mane.

In a foggy haze, I heard Benedicta’s anxious voice: “Conroy, we must stop for a while.” 

That’s when Conroy dismounted and called a halt. 

I felt his hand on the small of my back, steadying me.

“I agree. Kai cannot ride much longer.” 

I was sorry to admit that Conroy was right; I felt light-headed; drops of sweat were trickling into my eyes.

Benedicta slid from her mount, and joined him. She took a sharp breath when she pulled away my cloak. The wound had seeped again; my thigh felt wet with blood. The wound wasn’t that wide, but loss of blood, lack of sleep, and fear of pursuit made me feel vulnerable and weak. Benedicta and Conroy had gone a few feet away, and were conferring intensely. I straightened in my saddle, straining my ears to hear what they were saying. 

Conroy walked back to me and seized my reins, leading my horse on another path, half-hidden from the main road. Worry echoing in his voice, he asked, “Kai, can you hold on for a while? If you fall from that horse, we won’t be able to help you back on.”

“Where?—”

Benedicta answered, “To a place where we can be out of harm’s way. According to Conroy, we’ll no longer be on Cador’s territories. With some luck, he won’t find us.”

The path twisted and turned. I lost count of the streams we crossed and the stretches of wood we went through. Whatever my reservations, Conroy knew where he was headed. Once, when nearby smoke betrayed human presence, we had to backtrack; we could not take the risk of meeting anyone. 

At long last, we reached a small, half-ruined marble construction, its once immaculate walls stained dark green and brown, the colour of the vegetation that grew over it, helping to hold it together.

Benedicta eyed it suspiciously. “Is it safe? It looks as if it might crumble at a touch!”

Conroy reassured her, “Oh, yes. I was led to it last season, by a – err – friend.” He blushed a little. “The place is somewhat of a secret in these parts. It’s on King Mark’s lands. He sometimes used it as a shelter when he went hunting, some years ago.”

Conroy let go of my horse’s reins and slipped between the bushes. From the sounds – snapping branches, and expletives – he must have had to force his way to the building entrance. 

He came back, with a huge smile on his face. “Nobody’s here. There is even a dry place under part of the roof.”

We had a hard time squeezing our way in, leading the horses. The frightened beasts objected, but Conroy managed to coax them in. This wasn't the last of our difficulties: it seemed as if all the branches had conspired together, to tear at my wound.

Exhausted, we reached shelter. This damned vegetation would serve us well: the branches had sprung back into place, covering our tracks, and we would easily hear anyone trying to approach.

Our hideaway, a small round temple, had been converted into a house at some point, then abandoned for many years, by the look of it; the roof was falling apart, but braced by timber and planks. Some metal rings were still fixed on the walls that remained standing. They were of good use to tether the horses. The masonry was solid, though: bricks and mortar, hard as stone; some heavy stones remained in the middle of the room, breaking the pavement, as if their weight had prevented the looting of it. Another Roman ruin then. 

Benedicta surveyed our surroundings with compressed lips. She chose the part of the main room which was farthest from the entrance, gathered a pile of dried dead leaves, spread a rug over them, and used my saddle as a make-do pillow. “There! It won’t be really comfortable, but at least it will be less hard than the bare stone would be.”

I was glad to lie down. With Conroy’s assistance, I lowered myself onto this makeshift pallet. Hell’s Teeth! It was a relief not to be standing anymore. Unwillingly, I relaxed despite the paucity of our surroundings. A stream gurgled not very far away. Benedicta commented upon it, saying it would be convenient to get fresh water to bathe my wound and for our supplies. There was some leftover dry wood already piled on a corner, obviously gathered by the previous temporary dwellers: we would be able to make a fire, without leaving the building.

Despite myself, I took a nap. When I awoke, Benedicta and Conroy were whispering energetically in the opposite corner. When I stirred, Benedicta turned her head toward me and announced, “Conroy is going to Mark’s to get some help. Each violent move you make reopens that wound. You’ll have to lie still for a while.”

I had no stomach for the scheme, but we had no choice. Conroy would travel faster alone, and Mark would help us, however grudgingly. In any case, it would put Arthur in his debt; we wouldn’t hear the end of it for some time. Not from Mark and certainly not from Arthur… As for Mark, he would enjoy any score on Cador, while the boundaries between their territories weren’t drawn up to his satisfaction…

There was really no help for it. Conroy left. I remained alone with Benedicta.

********

Things were straightforward at first.

Benedicta occupied herself with gathering some branches and twigs, and lighting a fire. She fetched some water from the nearby stream with a pot she took from my saddlebag, selected some supplies and brought me some sort of a meal. We would have to ration what food we had, not knowing how long we would have to stay hidden here. I was in no suitable state to hunt, and neither was she able to. 

When all excuses were spent to keep busy, she sat down not far away from me, against the wall, drawing a flimsy rug around her. While the sun was shining, our stay had not been too uncomfortable, but with twilight coming on, the damp began to rise from beneath the pavement. Benedicta shivered.

I told her matter-of-factly, “We had better huddle together. The night will be cold.”

She looked at me incredulously and stiffly replied, “I’ll be fine.”

“The Hell you will! Are you always that impossible? I don’t intend to freeze to satisfy your idea of decorum.”

She looked at me apprehensively.

I added, “Living with Arthur should have cured you of impracticality!”

Unexpectedly, Benedicta burst out laughing. “You Celts!... All right.”

She slid closer to me, and sat on my good flank, pulling her rug around the both of us. I put my arm around her to draw her nearer. She was taut for a while, then – when I made no move – relaxed against me. For such a tall woman, she seemed almost fragile.

The night sky appeared between the cracks of the ceiling. Some animal scuffled around outside the walls, making scraping noises. Benedicta flinched.

“Probably just a hedgehog,” I said. “You’ll get used to the nightlife.”

“Oh.” She didn’t seem the least bit reassured.

I tilted my chin toward my axe. It was close at hand, as were the short sword I had used to kill Morged and my dagger. 

“An unharmed woman and a wounded warrior,” she said ironically. “What a threat we are!”

“I still am. Through those bushes, there is no entrance for more than one man at a time.” I thought I could still be a match for any who would seek entrance. But for how long? There was no reason to tell her _that_.

I dozed on and off. My side wound throbbed like Hellfire. Unanswered questions assaulted my brain: had my rash action brought unwholesome war on our heads? His own people wouldn’t mourn Morged: the man was as loathed as he was devious. But Cador – and perhaps Lancelin – would not vouch for us; it was our words against theirs. And no one from their tribe would dare defy them. So what of it? Instead of a new ally we had one more overt enemy in Cornwall. However we now counted one less in the East… unless his successor picked up his quarrel.

I was positive about one thing, though; Arthur would throttle me for letting myself be drawn into this mess.

And what he would say to Benedicta, I didn’t even want to imagine.

********

**Arthur’s Tale**

Add up Kai and Benedicta, and you are sure to find yourself up to your neck in some predicament.

I had not had a moment’s peace since the woman entered my life. To be true, the same could be said of Kai; the very first day I set my eyes on him, we had an ugly fight. Two days afterwards, I was still sore from Llud’s punishment, but at the time, I thought it was worth it. Now I could not recall it without embarrassment.

I knew my wife and my brother didn’t really get along. But I hoped that Benedicta’s wariness of him and Kai’s observance of my orders would limit the risks. I was wrongfully wrong. Seemingly, there was absolutely _nothing_ the two of them together could not get into when malicious Fate handed them the means to do so.

Of course, Morged _had_ to be here. And as obviously, Kai could not resist the temptation. This would cost us all dear. I trusted the price wouldn’t be Kai’s life. The _fool!_

I took the dagger I had won from him a few months before and jammed it savagely into the table. The martyred wood reverberated from the assault. My anger cooled a little.

This done, I admitted out loud I had wronged them: they could not anticipate Cador’s nor Morged’s madness.

Rowena was watching me closely, an expression of anguish on her face. His tale recounted, Conroy, Druce’s son, was sedately sitting in front of me, finishing his mead. The ebullient youth whom Llud had once bounced up on his knees seemed drained, which wasn’t so surprising after his break-neck ride to reach our village. He had first gone to Mark’s, only to find him away at the chieftains’ meeting, and – not trusting any of Mark’s lieutenants – Conroy had come to find us, giving his horse little time to recover. It was a wonder the poor beast was still alive.

A few days ago, he had left Kai in the care of Benedicta. Kai was weakened by his loss of blood, but, he assured us, not in mortal danger. Nevertheless, we would need a cart to bring him home, as he was obviously unable to ride. Kai would not be thankful for it, he added. A tight smile escaped me: being carried home like an old woman would indeed not appeal to my friend’s pride.

“I’m going with you”, Rowena immediately stated.

I turned to face her. “No, you won’t. You’re in no fit state to ride that fast.” **[NOTE 24]**

She cast me a look of dismay.

I added, “You’ll only slow us down.”

Rowena lowered her head. When she raised it, she had mastered her objections, but there were tears in her eyes. “Will you let us know –?”

“Of course, I will.”

Llud, who had said nothing till then, drew her into his arms. Rowena clung to him like a frightened child. 

“Sometimes I wish Kai were not so –”

“Hot-headed?” Llud cut in. “You won’t change him.”

“I don’t really want to. But sometimes I wish...” She smiled tremulously.

Llud nodded sagely. “You can’t change people. You just have to accept them – and love them – the way they are.” 

Why did I feel that his wisdom was directed as much to me as to her?

He went on briskly, “Conroy, Rowena will show you a bed. Rest, while we make ready.

Rowena and Conroy went out, leaving Llud and me to organize the rescue party. 

Llud was looking thoughtfully at me. “Arthur, Kai was not at fault. Nor was Benedicta.”

“I know. This is one of those unfortunate affairs when all conspire against us. Kai having to leave, Cador’s insanity, Morged’s – allegation.”

“This one will go round the evening gatherings. It is too juicy to ignore.” 

“Do you think I’m not aware of that? There is nothing we can do about it, anyway.”

“There will be people who will wonder if what Morged said was true.” Llud was looking earnestly at me. 

“Llud, what do you want me to say to you? That there might be one grain of truth behind it all?” I shook my head slowly. “There isn't.”

There wasn't. Not anymore, anyway.

It hadn’t been for lack of interest – from me, at any rate. But long before this delusion faded, I had acknowledged that it would not be reciprocated. Fire without wood cannot be sustained for long. It had thus dwindled away, leaving ashes behind; they scattered upon the wind of friendship and trust.

Looking back, I could hardly recognize my past self: the one who had spent endless nights awake, listening to Kai’s breathing; the one who had stolen surreptitious looks at Kai when we went swimming to rid ourselves of the dust and grime of summer; the one who had criticized Kai’s endless womanizing, hiding his watchfulness behind good-humoured put-downs.

I had been right to abstain. Nothing in Kai’s demeanour had proved me right to hope for anything more. A steadfast friend – as well as an infuriating one! – he had been, was and would ever be. One I had trusted my life and dreams upon. My desperate loneliness, our closeness, and the utter reliance I could place upon Kai, had misled me.

Things were as they were meant to be: Rowena was his true heart’s desire.

But the disclosure of Rowena's love for Kai took me by surprise. Helping Kai win his prize had been an act of selflessness but also a study in volition. Reason had ultimately prevailed as I had known it would. Yet I had to defeat some residue of a former jealousy I had thought long dead, when I had understood that their union would be unavoidable and that they both embraced it.

Benedicta had stormed – and conquered – my heart by a surprise attack I had not really foreseen. She had not even willingly made the attempt, she confessed, believing at the times that hers was a temporary infatuation. But she could no longer resist me than I could refrain from conquering her. Had we both tried to escape unwanted remembrances? She, of her criminal father; I, of something that could never be? There was no way to tell. Love and need were as manifold as death. But what irrevocably bound us to each other now was as longed-for and natural as breathing.

Nevertheless I could not help noticing that my dearest ones were from the same mould: prideful, obstinate and spirited; dauntless in adversity, controlling their fears, and pushing away any unwelcome hindrance. Both strangers in a strange land, they strived to call this new place ‘home’. And both cherished me, I knew, striving against their independence of spirit and their impatience which chafed under that voluntary encumbrance, love.

I snapped away from my musings to my surroundings. Llud was unperturbedly observing me, his acute gaze seeming to penetrate my soul. Llud hadn’t mentioned Kai’s name. What had our foster father seen? What had he suspected? His eyes saw much and his lips sometimes spoke little. Had Kai known? I believed he had not. He had stayed the same throughout my soul searching.

I gave him back a tiny smile. “There _isn’t_.”

“So you avow, and I can well believe you. But will Benedicta and Rowena?” 

“They have no reason to complain,” I replied.

Llud nodded. “Good. That is all I wanted to know.”

“Is that all your worry?”

He put a hand on my arm. “Arthur, you are a child no longer. You are aware of your duty.” **[NOTE 25]**

“Duty?” Did Llud truly believe that my marriage to Benedicta sprang from a sense of duty alone? When I had once told him that I would not get married under pressure? I had tied the knot of my own free will, and he had witnessed it first-hand.

I rebuked him, “My duty is to make sure my wife and right-hand man reach the village safely, and to salvage what we can from this whole muddle.”

Llud accepted the reproach without demur. “It will be difficult.”

“Yes. Much depends on Lancelin. And Karn.”

Llud shot me a doubtful look that turned to understanding. “Hmm. He wasn’t Morged’s lieutenant, that much is true, but his word has much weight there. Morged’s treachery might upset the balance of power to our advantage.”

“It might. Karn may be still prickly from our last encounter. But he is a fair man, every one acknowledges it.” I made a face. “At least, when he’s not flicking mud in your eye …”

A look of alarm crossed Llud’s face. I smirked. “Don’t worry. This tomfoolery is at an end. I won’t accept another challenge from him in order to settle the last one!”

“I don’t really think it may come to that. But, knowing Karn, it may not be far from his mind.”

I shrugged. “Perhaps. This is no concern of mine.” I paused to pull my dagger from the table. “Llud, while I’m gone, I want the sentries doubled and on the alert. We’ll depart in three hours. Conroy, Kado, Blyth and Cadan will accompany me. Blaine and Anyon will follow with the cart. When they reach Carnan Hills, we’ll show them the way to Conroy’s hideaway.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

** NOTES **

**NOTE 23:** When she fled with Jason, after helping him to take the Golden Fleece, Medea distracted her father by killing her brother Absyrtus. In some versions of the tale, Medea dismembered her brother's body and scattered his parts, knowing her father would stop to retrieve them for burial. 

**NOTE 24:** Rowena is pregnant. (See _[Knucklebones](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1552658/chapters/3319865)._ ) 

**NOTE 25:** In the fifth and sixth centuries, leadership began to change from elective leadership to hereditary leadership.


	5. Chapter 5

**Kai’s Tale**

Benedicta was anxious that serious fever would set in, but I maintained that I had a strong enough disposition to weather worse than this. After a couple of days, she had to admit that I was right. The wound, now that it wasn’t knocked around, began to heal just as it should. I let her know that I wanted to get up. Yelling at me was her answer.

It did her good to discard what was left of her awkwardness around me. When she was done upbraiding me, she spoke to me as she did to Rowena: without self-awareness, and a little impatience when she thought I was being too stubborn for my own good. I much preferred this admonishing female to the one who cringed when I addressed her. She even displayed some sort of humour I had not expected.  
As I had foreseen, our food reserve diminished to almost nothing. 

Then Benedicta surprised me. She disappeared for a long while and came back, the lower part of her dress dripping, and triumphantly displaying three fishes. She had caught them in the stream, she said. Her brother had shown her how to do it, but she had not told me she would try, fearing that she had forgotten how. Princesses were not supposed to smear their hands with such pursuits. “I was supposed to embroider,” she told me. “But after the second altarpiece, believe me, the novelty palls.”

The fishes were good, if a little overcooked. We were so very hungry that it didn’t stop us from eating them.

When I had spat out the last fish bone, I queried, “And what other useful talent have you hidden from us?”

Not many, I fear.” She absently wiped her fingers on her gown, and disposed the wet folds of fabric nearer to the fire. She followed my gaze, and smiled, “As you can see, I cannot even tuck my gown up without getting it wet! I’m not sure I was really cut out for this kind of life.” She added defiantly: “But I’ll learn.”

“You will.” I was sure of that. She was a stubborn woman, that one! She would prevail, if only to prove she could do it.

After a while, Benedicta asked. “Are you comfortable? Is there something I can help you with?”

“None – apart conjuring up my leader, my bed and my wife.”

“In that order?”

“I will rest when Arthur is done chewing me out, and at that point, Rowena will take over.”

She pondered that for a while. “Will Arthur be angry with me too?” 

“No more than usual.” Then, without quite knowing why, I told her about Goda. 

She listened to me raptly, and ventured nothing for a long while. Then she said, “Strange isn’t it, how solitude makes one talk so. I’m sure you never dreamed you would give away so much. At least, not to me.”

She was right. My previous dislike for her had faded, though for all that, I didn’t cherish Benedicta's company, and I told her so.

Benedicta smiled impishly. “That’s quite a relief! I don’t really like you either.”

I laughed in my turn. “Will we agree to honestly dislike each other, then?”

Benedicta made a face. “It seems foolish, once we’ve said it aloud… But I should dislike you tremendously: you derided me from the start. The problem is – I can’t. Not really. After all, you did kill Nestor in the nick of time.”

I nodded assent. “– but it was pure luck I came at the right moment.”

She looked blunted daggers at me, and went on, “And you took on my defence, when my kin would not.”

I playfully interjected, “Not at all… I acted for my leader’s honour.”

Benedicta gave me a mildly aggravated look, “And yours, it must be said. All right.” She drew a breath. “Well, perhaps there’s one thing …” She hesitated and bit her lip.

I turned serious. “Benedicta, what is the matter?”

She got up, and said hastily, “I must fetch water for your horse. I’ll be right back.” 

I grabbed at the hem of her dress, and Benedicta had to turn around. What I saw in her eyes put an end to my amusement.

“Sit back, Benedicta, and let’s get to the bottom of it.”

She shook her head. “There is only disgrace to speak of it,” she whispered. **[NOTE 26]**

“Ah ...” 

It was as I guessed. Morged’s words had left a trail of fire in her mind. It was up to me to wipe it out. The silly female needed words to be at peace.

“Benedicta, all that Morged flung about was fabricated. _All_ of it.”

“Was it?” 

Benedicta searched my eyes, and what she saw in them didn’t reassure her in the least. She lowered her gaze. “Arthur cares for you, more than he can say. Much more. Perhaps, even he isn’t aware of the depth of his caring.”

“If so, our friendship has never interfered with his duty.” 

That wasn’t entirely truthful. I well-remembered instances of Arthur bending outside of his usual way for my sake, like the day he had embroiled Mark in the search of a non-existent treasure. His stratagem had saved us, Llud and I.

I tried to make her understand. “When young, Arthur fought against me, honestly. This was much more than the other boys did. They only sought to humiliate me and beat me up. Not Arthur: he wanted to know which of us had the upper hand… We never really found out.”

“Treating you as an equal?”

I nodded. The woman was bright, indeed. “We were both orphans. We became like brothers. We had no one left, except Llud. There is no more to tell.”

“I know how it is; I had a brother. He –” She closed her eyes, as if in pain. “He was such as Morged accused you of being. As is Lancelin. In the end, it meant his death.”

At last, I knew the crux of the matter... I thought about it, and answered her tacit question. “Here, this would mean no one’s death; secrecy, perhaps. I can’t really say.”

“Can’t you?”

“Benedicta… If I must set your mind at rest, I prefer women.” I could not help smiling reminiscently. “But all this lies in the past; Rowena is the one I truly want.”

“So, no regrets whatsoever?”

Another tiny smile flickered at the corner of my mouth. “You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you?”

“No. But even if one embraces a new life, sometimes one can’t help feeling regretful.” She paused. “I miss Rome. I always will.” She sighed miserably. “I miss the sun, and the heat, and the breeze rustling the olive trees. Here, I’m cold all the time, except when Arthur holds me.”

However my admission had made her feel better; I could see it in her stance.

I noticed she had abstained from asking about Arthur. Perhaps that was just as well.

Benedicta seemed more at ease; she had stopped nervously turning her wedding ring round her finger. She mused aloud, “Have you ever wondered how it would be if things were different?”

I replied, “No. There are enough that raise questions.”

“I have. There was this philosopher living in Rome I talked to. He had strange beliefs, and openly spoke about them even if they were heresies. He fled from Rome in a hurry, fearing for his life. I don’t know what became of him, but his words stayed with me.” **[NOTE 27]**

“And –?” I said, interested despite myself. Besides, it was much better to talk about that, than of Arthur’s previous desires.

“He taught that, at each moment, Time creates divided universes – like rivulets out of a river–, streams which encompass all the myriad possibilities that are created out of the actions we follow and those we abstain from. That, from all those, err, knots in Time, span different universes which differ from each other and co-exist in some plane, somewhere– he wasn't sure where. According to his belief, perhaps, someplace, my husband Gracchus lives and I spend happy days in Rome with him; in another one, I drowned and only my lifeless body came ashore. Perhaps there is even a time stream where Rowena marries King Mark, and another one where Nestor takes me back to Rome and I can’t escape this fate…”

“Hmmm.” I frowned uneasily. I would be sorry to know there was also some universe where Llud had killed a defenceless Saxon boy, or one where I had wed Goda, or ended up facing the Celts in battle, next to my Saxon sire. Perhaps we lived in the place that was truly destined for us. Perhaps it was called Fate.

Maybe there was even a plane where I had reciprocated Arthur’s one-time lust … I turned the idea over in my mind; somehow, it quietened some shadowy sparks of questioning. I had turned a blind eye to Arthur’s feelings, but I had seen them grow steadily then die out, from lack of response from me. At the times, it had cost me dear to see him so lonely; but I was no longer sorry for my deliberate blindness: Arthur needed more than I could ever offer him.

Besides I knew myself too well to be delusional: I would not take second place to anything or anyone. What I gave, I wanted to be given back in full… Rowena filled my life now, and I was fulfilled.

I could not disregard that Arthur was the leader of the Celts: pushed into a tight corner, he would put his duty above all else... and shed bitter tears afterwards over it. Besides, he needed a son to step in his shoes someday, and a devoted spouse who would give him what I could not: understanding for all these questions that plagued Arthur’s mind, the meaning of things that I was content to take in stride. Arthur’s mind was never at rest, always soaring over the horizon, far away, where I could not follow his lead. Perhaps Benedicta would be outstripped, but at least she understood where his intellectual wanderlust led him. It was important to Arthur to debate such things, and to discover other questions answering his…

As I was about to tell Arthur’s wife that she’d better focus on the practical side rather than on the vagaries of life, the sound of scraping noises and of a light, quick footstep near the entrance imposed silence on us. We looked towards the farthest corner. Benedicta tensed, and snatched my dagger.

Arthur stood silhouetted in the doorway. I released the haft of my axe; I had been grasping it from among the folds of my covering.

My voice cut through the silence like a knife. “Oh, it’s only you, isn’t it?” I said. “Well, come in, and mind the floor. It’s so uneven Benedicta nearly sprained her ankle.”

My leader carefully stepped into the shadows-filled room. When he got nearer our fire I saw that he looked drained; his eyes, usually keen and sparkling with life were red-rimmed. There was a new crease around his mouth and his mane of dark hair looked dulled. Even if the old fire was still smouldering underneath, worry had clearly taken its toll. Nonetheless, Arthur surveyed our surroundings with a slight smile.

“I see you two are cosily ensconced. You really made yourself at home!” He looked down at me. “You don’t seem the worst for wear.” Relief showed beneath his apparent imperturbability.

I gestured toward the bandage which criss-crossed my waist, “Hmm. As you can see, your wife has learned something in our midst.”

Benedicta rose hastily. “Arthur…” 

He shot her a warm smile, but said nothing in reply, and sat cross-legged beside me. Her face fell.

Arthur drew sharp breath. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, Kai!” 

I acknowledged the left-handed compliment with a long-suffering, “My thanks!” 

“Is your wound still bleeding?” Arthur asked, very matter-of-factly.

“No,” Benedicta said. “At least, the dressing is clean. I don’t know what moving him will bring on, however.”

“Well. We can ease it, at least.” Arthur rose and called out, “Cadan! This undergrowth will have to be cut back.” 

A heart-felt expletive was the answer.

I tried to rise, but Arthur seized me by the shoulder to restrain me. “No, Kai. ‘On your shield or under it’ **[NOTE 28]** , remember? And you’re in no fit state to do either.” He quietly smiled, and there was some sort of uncompromising hilarity under that smile. “You are riding home in a cart.”

My dismay gave way to horror.  


********

**Arthur’s Tale**

Despite his protests, Kai came home in the cart **[NOTE 29]** , his wounds anointed with goose-grass salve and another ill-smelling yellowish paste. What my brother refrained from saying aloud, I nevertheless understood quite well. Our slow progress infuriated him, but worse than that was seeing Benedicta riding his horse.

She was a good enough horsewoman to ride safely in Kai’s saddle; at least, at that slow pace. She held the reins to tight that her hands shook a little, be it fright of the spirited war horse or apprehension for my reaction.

Our progress was unimpeded; we met no one, not even Mark’s men. We rode rather silently through forests and fields, pastures and brooks, disdaining to look at the sky and horizon, merely appraising which way would jostle the cart the least. Occasionally Conroy turned in his saddle to make some remark to Benedicta. She answered him politely, but I could see that her mind was elsewhere, as her uneasy glances in my direction abundantly made clear.

We had not talked privately since we met. In one glance I had seen that she had taken no harm from her stay with her cousins, apart from the very great fright she had felt since Morged outraged her – Conroy had made it quite clear – and there would be time enough for our reckoning; I wanted it to stay between the two of us, and be memorable enough that my wife would understand the rules we lived under. Here, my word was law, and she would have to live with it. 

Apart from her first burst of emotion, she had not tried to approach me again.

********

When we reached home at long last, I was relieved from my nagging fears. No one had seen hide nor hair, either of Cador and his men, nor of any Saxon warrior.

As a matter of fact, Lancelin's messenger reached us two days later. He carried Lancelin’s regrets, and assurance of good-will, and an assurance that he had forestalled his father's plans to revenge himself for his imaginary mistreatment. I was not really worried on that count: Kai's and Benedicta's knowledge about the real state of affairs could be a good enough bargaining material. I would use it without compunction, if I must; not even blushing about it, although I might have been once liable of a similar threat. **[NOTE 30]**

As soon as Kai was carried – with many heated protests – to his bed, Lenni and Rowena bustled around him. I peered through the door from time to time, but each time, I was unceremoniously pushed away. Some dirt may have found its way inside Kai’s wound; the flesh was red and festering, and fever had settled in.

It wasn’t till the day after we came back that I was able to speak privately to Kai.

When I entered his bedchamber, he was lying flat on his back, propped up by pillows, with a padded bandage tied to his cheek, hiding part of his face.

I tiptoed to his bed. Seeing that his eyes were closed, I was about to remove myself when he spoke to me.

“I know it’s you, Arthur. I’d recognize your step anywhere. There must be some mead on the shelf. Help yourself, then take a seat.” 

I acted upon both requests, and silently sat down by Kai’s bed. 

Kai lifted his hand to his cheek, then cursed, and let it drop. His fingers clenched on the fur covers.

“I wish I could scratch my face. The wound burns like Hell fires! But Rowena will kill me if I keep that scar. She says it would forever remind her of my foolhardiness.”

His chest was bare, the tight bandage wound over his side covering most of it, but he breathed more easily than when I had first beheld him in that half-crumbled lair. 

Kai unexpectedly opened his eyes; they followed my fixed scrutiny. “Awful bundle, isn’t it? Still, this one’s better than the one Benedicta wrapped. She must have mistaken it for a shroud.”

“You ungrateful bastard!” I amicably reproved him. “She saved your life, according to Conroy. That wound bled awfully. It could have taken a bad course.”

“It did.” Kai moved towards me, and winced as a result.

“Don’t move!” 

Kai groaned. “Don’t! I’ve had enough of that from Rowena. And Lenni’s much worse.”

“I won’t say it again, if you tell me what really happened. All I learned came from Conroy’s lips.”

“Not Benedicta’s?”

I let it pass without answering. 

Reluctantly at first, then with more vigour, Kai told me everything. That is, all he had seen under the sun. He carefully withheld his own thoughts from his narrative. Before he could give me a blow-by-blow account of his encounter with Morged, I interrupted him.

“You won’t distract me, Kai. We’ll have to speak of it anyway.”

“No?” He sighed. “Well, in any case, I had Benedicta to keep safe. So as soon as I could, I took her, and we rode away. We rode too hard, I could not –” The golden eyes that would always burn their way before them closed wearily. No doubt he blamed himself for that, also. “You cannot charge me more bitterly than I can accuse myself. I destroyed your hard-won peace, I know it only too well.” Kai grimaced. “And yet, I could not see any other way out of this trap.”

“There wasn’t one. None that I can think of.”

“Ah!” Kai paused. He turned his head and looked uncompromisingly at me. “What do you want to know? You’d better ask while I’m stuck in here.” 

I hesitated. How would I put it? Words failed me under Kai’s searching gaze. All I could do was whisper, “I could have lost both of you.”

“No,” Kai said. “Not both. The three of us may have been forever lost to you. But we weren’t.”

 _Three? Benedicta’s precipitous flight into our chambers, adamantly barring the door, suddenly made sense. I had surmised the reason, but suspecting and knowing were two different things. Why hadn’t she confided in me? Was this wondrous news another grief for her? I_ had _to know. Were women’s hearts so very different from ours?_

“Three? She never told …”

Kai bridged the uneasy silence. “Arthur, be patient with her. Morged’s words were very hard on her. She believed them and – despite my stating the contrary– she believes them still, I think.” 

I wanted to ask him, “ _And you, Kai, did you believe them?”_

To my horror, Kai’s astonished gaze showed me that I had voiced it aloud. It stuck into my soul like a quivering knife. 

“I didn’t believe him. I _knew_ that – once – it was your wish,” he quietly acknowledged. “But life moves on. I understand your heart, Arthur. Sometimes, better than I know my own.”

His stare seemed to pierce my skin; the ache spread to my heart. I faltered under it, and turned away. _What was that truth so bitter that I could not so easily face it? The thorough knowledge that an ache I had found so unendurable had somehow wasted away?_

Kai dispassionately added, “We trouble ourselves needlessly about something that might have been but wasn’t. It’s reality that counts.” 

I nodded, not trusting my voice. _Reality could also be burdened by failed endeavours. Everyday, leadership taught me that warning._

Kai added, “Once is but once.” He smiled. “I won't regret what wasn’t meant to be for us. We cannot bathe twice in the same water.” **[NOTE 31]**

“Huh?”

 _What did Kai mean?_ Was it the fever speaking? His face – what I saw of it – had a dreamy, inward look.

“Whatever the stream we wade through, know that you’ll never lose me.”

His voice was becoming sluggish. I bent over him, the better to hear. A sheen of sweat glistened on his face. Rowena had said, 'no more than a few moments'. She would come to fetch me away at any time, now. 

My brother added, “Your question – This is one our other selves could answer. I cannot.”

Absolutely confused by that last sentence, I queried as I rose to take my leave, “Our other selves?”

“Ask Benedicta. She knows everything about them.” Kai’s face showed faint amusement. “You might even relish the discussion.”

“What's this? Your addition to the Four Last Questions?” **[NOTE 32]**

“No. I have better games to play.” His leer was evocative enough.

I answered him with the flicker of a smile. “I never doubted it.”

********

**Benedicta’s Tale**

“Arthur, a moment of your time, if you please.”

I stood before him in the great room. Hearing my opening words, Llud considerately withdrew, as did the two Celtic warriors who had been sharing mead with my husband. I was left alone with him.

Arthur, leaning back in his great chair, took his time to turn toward me. 

This was not very encouraging; nevertheless, I came forward.

“Later, Benedicta.”

But I had waited enough already. When we had reached home, I’d barely had time to get to reach the privacy of our bedchamber before being sick as a dog. At least, it had not happened when I was riding Kai's horse. I could well imagine his outraged reaction at such a happening...

Now I’d recovered from the journey, this was something I had to do, before I lost all heart. 

I sat down on the dais at Arthur's feet and folded my arms round his knees, my cheek laying on them. Arthur bent forward and put his hand on my hair, stroking it, but when he spoke again, his voice was still unremitting. “I’ll speak with you later.” 

“What is it? Is Kai worse?” 

I knew Lenni and Rowena were with him. They would have a hard time convincing him to stay recumbent. God knows it, I had, but I didn’t doubt Rowena’s tenacity.

“No. Kai is …” Arthur relapsed into his silent musings.

I stayed where I was. After a moment, my husband set his now empty cup at his feet, and said more kindly, “What did you want to tell me?”

My mouth felt drier than the Forum in the midday heat of high summer. “Arthur, I…” I swallowed. It was more difficult than I thought it would be. “I suppose – err, no – I’m quite sure of it–” I took a deep breath, and began again. “Arthur, I wanted to tell you that I am with child. You will be a father in about eight months.”

I turned, to see his reaction. Arthur’s stare was still fixed straight ahead, but his hand stilled on my hair. 

“Eight months, do you say?” 

His voice was absolutely emotionless. This was not how it was supposed to be. 

“I cannot be more accurate.”

“Understandable. But you have known for some time, haven’t you?”

I had hoped he wouldn’t remark on it: not at once. I swallowed. “I wasn’t quite sure at first. Not before reaching Cornwall.”

“And then?” He leaned over me, seized me under the arms and helped me to rise. I lost my balance and leaned on the arm of his chair. His eyes bore keenly into mine.

“And then, I was in Cornwall, and – and Llud left without me: I wasn’t certain that you still wanted me to come back. After he was gone, I was sure about our child.”

“I see.” He drew me to him, and I half-fell half-sprawled across his knees. “Yet you chose to wait for two days and tell me only now. Why?”

“I –”

In truth, I had no answer – unless it was simply that I had secreted my innermost thoughts inside my breast for so long, that the habit was now deep-seated. But this answer would not do. I tried to fathom my real motive.

After a while I answered him honestly. “I thought that Kai was your predominant worry. My news could wait awhile.”

“Hmm.” He considered my answer. 

I fretfully lifted my face to his, but then Arthur laughed in earnest. “A child! Ours!”

As he engulfed me in a hug that left me breathless but relieved, he whispered onto my hair, “Benedicta, you imprudent, silly woman, could you not trust me?”

I whispered back into his shoulder, “I dared not. Not after our fight. It just got worse and worse. I didn't know what to say.”

I disentangled myself from his arms and looked up at him. A beautiful glow brightened his eyes; it made me light-headed with happiness. I felt his tension slowly recede. 

He enquired, “For the sake of my peace of mind, answer me truthfully: do you love me, Benedicta?”

I nodded, and lightly enclosed his face in my palms; I slowly traced the outline of his cheekbones. “Yes, I do. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Good. Now that is settled –” Arthur seized my right hand and began to kiss the soft skin of my wrist, slowly making his way up my arm. As he did so, I settled more comfortably, straddling him.

He went on, “I love you, and you are mine.” 

I shivered under his touch and went deliciously limp in his arms. 

He encircled my waist with his right arm, lightly placing his left hand where our child lay. “But, my heart, you will obey without dissent when I say so. Understood?”

“Yes. I have learned the hard way,” I confessed.

“You did. And you're fortunate that I cannot for the moment follow Kai's marital advice.”

“Oh.” What Kai recommended would not be to my advantage.

Arthur's tone was mock-regretful. “Alas, not the first and not even the second, I fear.” He traced the outline of my belly.

“And what would it be, pray?”

“My sagacious brother suggested that I beat you, as you deserve – then make love to you. I suppose, at the time, that he thought you warranted it.”

“Did he, really?”

“Yes, but it was well before he had to fight for you... Better not ask him what should be done now.”

“Well, you may certainly abstain from his first instruction – but you can yet follow the latter.”

I rubbed myself deliberately against Arthur, and I was left in no doubt that he understood my meaning full well. He lowered his head and I tilted my chin, to receive his kiss. 

As he captured my lips with his, I eagerly opened my mouth and responded hungrily to his touch. We kissed for a few minutes, savouring our familiarity and the feel of the passion soaring between us; the warmth of my husband’s hands a welcome touch even through my clothing. As I pressed myself more closely against him, I slid mine between our entwined bodies and tried to undo the fastening of his tunic, longing to touch him. My hands were shaking so much I did not succeed. Arthur’s mouth released mine.

While I was catching my breath, Arthur hastily put me on my feet and led me by the hand in the direction of our bedchamber.

I voiced a token protest, “Arthur, we cannot – it is not night yet –” 

I abruptly hushed up as I saw the determination in his eyes. After all, an obedient wife doesn't really have her say; hadn’t I just told him that I had learned my lesson?

We crossed the threshold. Arthur was still closing the door when I finished untying my sash, letting it drop on the floor where I stood.

“As for the christening –” Arthur’s voice was mischievous.

“Christening?” I whirled around in order to see him better.

A smug smile crept and settled on his mouth. “Surely, Kai won’t refuse to hold our child after all he said and did.” **[NOTE 33]**

“I’m sure he’ll be honoured,” I said in my best practical voice. _Poor Kai! He would have to look over not only one child but two…_

We shared some merriment, just as Rowena reached the farther end of the great hall, calling for us, and announced that the unsuspecting future godfather was now awake and asking for us.

As previously stated, Kai's timing is – often – admirable. He could have not plotted a better retaliation.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
 **NOTES**

 **NOTE 26:** Disgrace for  Benedicta. If she spoke of her uncertainty, Benedicta would infer that she believes Kai fought to redeem their honour while being Arthur’s lover. If she does so, she casts aspersion on his honour as a champion and calls him a liar.

 **NOTE 27:** This theory is a fabrication inspired by Heraclitus’ famous fragment, “ _No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man_ ”. The idea of alternate universes ruled by hazard would be an awful heresy in Christendom and its belief of a universe ruled by an omnipotent God.  
The Alternate Universe theory is obviously not an original fictional device. In this instance, I was influenced not so much by various Sci-Fi fictions than by Alan Ayckbourn's series of plays [Intimate Exchanges](http://intimateexchanges.alanayckbourn.net/)

 **NOTE 28:** “ _On your shield or under it_ ” is a saying that the Spartan mothers were supposed to say to their warriors sons, meaning that they should not be vanquished. ‘Under the shield’ is the fighting warrior. “On your shield” is for the dead warrior. 

**NOTE 29:** In Chrétien de Troyes’ novel, Lancelot travels in a cart… which was an infamous way of transportation.

 **NOTE 30:** Arthur is a callous leader when it comes to enforce peace… Kai took him publicly to task about his ruthlessness when he hesitated to exchange Llud against Eithna. (‘ _Daughter of the King_ ’)

 **NOTE 31:** A play on words on the “Time streams” imagery and Heraclitus’ saying. Kai means he knows that Arthur’s infatuation is past.

 **NOTE 32:** Arthur enjoys discussing them, as the Scholar told Karn in ‘ _The Swordsman_ ’.

 **NOTE 33:** It also publicises that Arthur trusts him… It’s a private and symbolic gesture, turned into a political statement.


	6. Epilogue

** Several years later… **

**Arthur’s Tale**

When we dismounted in the courtyard, Myrddin was gleefully chasing Nimue who was running desperately away from him, screaming at the top of her voice. None of their mothers were in sight. I stopped Kai's eldest’s flight with a well-timed grab, and snatched my daughter up under my other arm as if she were a bale of hay. She screamed again, this time with unadulterated delight, “Father!”

“What is the matter, this time?” I severely asked.

Both children answered me all at once. “He began it–” “No, she did!” “Liar!” “I–”

Their voices intertwined and tried to drown out each other. Undeterred, Nimue wriggled so vigorously that I had to lift her into my arms. She knotted her plump arms round my neck and rubbed her nose upon it.

Lancelin, who wasn't far behind me, laughed. “Is that young hellion yours, too?”

I smiled. “Myrddin? No, he's Kai's. Fortunately. I don't think I'd have survived the two of them.” I pivoted to face the defiantly standing boy.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

He raised his chin in a provocative gesture that summoned vivid memories of his father but meekly replied, “Nothing, Uncle Arthur.”

Nimue, knowing herself secure, made a face at him.

Lancelin, who was tremendously amused, told her, “I saw that, young lady.”

“I'm not a lady!” she retorted. “But mama is a real princess!”

“I know.”

She beamed at her older unknown relative. Myrddin was looking at her with undisguised disgust. “A princess! Father says it's a heap of horse dung!”

Nimue indignantly squealed and tried to escape my embrace. I held her tighter.

“Stay quiet!” I turned my attention back to young Myrddin. “I'm waiting.”

Reluctantly, he disclosed it all. Kai, who had just emerged from the longhut, hastily smothered a laugh. He told his son, “Since you like horse dung and water so much, you'll go and clean up the stables. Right now.”

Myrddin glared at his father. Kai glared back. The twin stances – one tall and handsome, the other diminutive and barely out of roundish baby fat – mirrored themselves perfectly, apart from their respective sizes. After a while, the boy lowered his eyes and without any enthusiasm walked towards the stables where Blyth was already leading my horse and Lancelin's. His men were already on their way to stable theirs.

Lancelin’s presence in our land wasn’t that unexpected. Since Cador’s death, the family ties had tentatively resumed on neutral ground, and to crown it all, we had made a pact between our people. With time, Benedicta had forgiven her cousin’s deception and they had truly made their peace.

But we had had no word of Lancelin’s coming, and my cousin-by-marriage had merely smiled when I enquired into the purpose of his call. We had met by chance on the way to the village.

********

In the longhut, Benedicta was busy putting the meal on the table. Rowena, already seated before it, was nursing her daughter, cooing unintelligible words in her ear and kissing the top of her head. The baby had mousy-brown hair, unlike her brother who favoured Kai's colouring.

My wife smiled at me lovingly, and laughed at our daughter, “Arthur, what is this little monkey you captured? It won't be enough to feed us all.”

Nimue eagerly asked, “What's a monkey, Mama?”

“A clinging and very dirty animal, sweetheart. Go wash your hands and face before you eat!” 

I put her down, and the girl made haste to obey her mother.

Rowena lifted her head. “Where's Myrddin?”

Kai answered, “Cleaning the stables. He wanted to push Nimue into the lake. It will cure him of it.” **[NOTE 34]**

“Why?”

“She boasted of being the better swimmer. Your son wanted some evidence, it would seem.”

“ _My_ son? Yours! Why is he always _my_ son when he misbehaves?”

Lancelin, whom the women had not yet paid attention to, focused as they were on children and food, made himself known. “Greetings, Benedicta!” 

His cousin's face broke into a wide smile. “Lancelin! What a nice surprise! I didn't know you would visit.” She bade him sit next to me, and added a plate. “Come! Eat with us; there will be enough time for serious talk later.” She looked inquiringly at me.

I hastened to reassure her. “You don't need to fret about Karn. The alliance is still holding fast.”

“I told you it would,” Kai said. He straightened, his hand still cupping his daughter's head.

Only crumbs, bare bones and apple peelings were left on the table; Rowena had slipped away with some food for her little miscreant while Kai turned a voluntary blind eye on his wife's action. We remained alone in the great room, Lancelin, Benedicta and I. 

“Benedicta, I came to give you this. It is long due.”

Lancelin fumbled in the pouch that hanged from his belt. He pulled out a small bundle, carefully wrapped in leather. He unfolded it and put it in Benedicta's palm. The fibula was magnificent. The body of the serpent eating its own tail was pure gold. His eyes were rubies and various gemstones were inserted into his scales. The more we looked at it, the more the shape seemed to twist and change before our very eyes, frozen in its eternal dance.

“This was Cador's: he intended to give this to Rhiannon. He kept it all these years; my mother never wore it.”

He shrugged. “As you're well aware, I have no wife to give it to.”

I humorously commented, “It's not to Llywan's taste? He's hard to please, indeed.”

Lancelin's eyes twinkled. “Not that much.”

“The Uroboros!” **[NOTE 35]** Benedicta exclaimed. She turned the jewel in her hands and declaimed, “The being had no need of eyes because there was nothing outside of him to be seen; nor of ears because there was nothing to be heard; and there was no surrounding atmosphere to be breathed; nor would there have been any use of organs by the help of which he might receive his food or get rid of what he had already digested, since there was nothing which went from him or came into him: for there was nothing beside him.” **[NOTE 36]**

She smiled smugly.

Lancelin shot her an astounded look. “Showing off, Benedicta?”

Benedicta sheepishly added, “Plato wrote that in his Timaeus.”

She looked at the thing of beauty nestling in her hands with overt admiration; then she regretfully heaved a sigh. “Lancelin, I cannot accept it. One day, you will regret parting with it.”

“I won't.”

She hesitated. Lancelin looked squarely at me. “Accept it, then, Arthur. As a token of our newly-sworn alliance. May it be renewed, year after year, as unendingly as the seasons return.”

I nodded my understanding of his reasons, picked up the golden serpent and pinned it to my wife's dress. The circular pattern was sealed; Rihannon’s daughter would wear it, as she should.

She brushed one fingertip over it, tracing the shape of the golden beast.

Yes, ours was an unending cycle: life and death, war and peace, love and pain. But sometimes the losses were gains.

After all, we never really knew in what streams we would find ourselves wading through.

_**Finis.** _

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** NOTES **

**NOTE 34:** Nimue is the "Lady of the Lake" 's name in some of the traditional Arthurian tales.

 **NOTE 35:** A symbol for eternal cyclic renewal, the _Uroboros_ or _Ouroboros_ appears in Egyptian mythology; it also features in Plato's _Timaeus_ and Nordic mythology. I stretched things a little and imagined that Benedicta could know by heart some old Greek texts. Part of _Timaeus_ was still circulating during the Dark Ages.

 **NOTE 36:** Benjamin Jowett's [translation](http://hermetic.com/texts/plato/timaeus.html) of Plato's _Timaeus_.


End file.
